Tell
by Googie
Summary: Sometimes things happen that make you view your choices in an entirely different light. And if you're lucky  and brave, you'll get the chance to right some of your wrongs. Season 4. Deals with the revelation of Beckett's secret. Chapter 10 now posted.
1. Chapter 1

_**This popped into my head mid last week and I've been trying to flesh it out since then. I really have no plans for this, but I'll just see where it takes me. Because sometimes, that's the best way to start something. **_

_**It's inspired by something that should not in any way be inspiring...I heard about it just very recently...the suicide death of a young girl who felt that she couldn't face life anymore. Such a waste, and it truly saddens me. But it makes you think about appreciating life-in any form. I hugged my kids that night that I heard about it, and I let them know that even though they might make me mad sometimes, I still will always love them, and there's just no way to undo something like that. I hope I can continue to make them believe that, no matter what life may throw at them.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any parts of Castle, nor the characters.**_

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><p>They packed up the murder board without any semblance of their normal sense of relief, or of pride or satisfaction normally found at the end of a case. Because this was one of those cases where there were just losers all around...the victims, the families, the hopes and dreams. It was the type of case that had made Castle want to look the other way, and if she admitted it, it made Beckett want to look the other way too.<p>

Two young people were dead, and other lives were affected and even ruined. And perpetrator had become victim.

And for what? The desire to feel superior? The need to mete out revenge?

It hit Castle probably more than the others; his daughter was only a little bit older that what was, ultimately, the first victim. Beckett could tell that he was torn, from the moment they'd made the connection. From the moment they'd found out what their supposed 'victim' had been doing. Because their victim was not a victim, not really. He was a teaser, he was a tormentor, he was a persecutor.

He was a bully.

He was fifteen.

But she was fourteen. Emily Andrews was just fourteen, and she was the target of fifteen year old Dylan Laskey. And Emily's death had saddened and devastated a family, a school, a neighborhood. She just couldn't take it anymore and thought that taking a bunch of pills and drinking a lot of alcohol in a running car in a locked garage was the only way to make the pain go away.

Some of Dylan's involvement was documented, but it seemed he always slipped out of reach. Even when there were witnesses, Dylan always had an explanation, a reason, an excuse. Blame the victim...that was what it amounted to. And poor Emily...she'd never stood a chance.

And Beckett was left wondering what good all of these anti-bullying laws and mandates and codes of conduct were good for when this pretty, blonde girl with the wide smile was dead. When she saw no relief to the pain that she was under except to take the pain away herself by any and every means at her disposal.

Her mother blamed herself for leaving her keys around and showing her how to start the car when she was ten.

Her father blamed himself for having leftover liquor from a Super Bowl Party.

Her older brother blamed himself for breaking his leg in a soccer game three days before, and for being the reason that the narcotic painkillers were in the house in the first place.

But Dylan Laskey, when being informed of the girl's death, had just shrugged his shoulders and said, "God, she could just never take a joke. What a lame-ass bitch."

In the end, they couldn't charge any one person in Dylan Laskey's death. And even though Castle felt a certain sense of wonder and even pride in the guts of the group of Emily's friends and defenders, and pleasure and relief that they couldn't charge any one person for Dylan's death, he was still shaken by the whole thing. He still had a hard time believing that one person could be so careless with the feelings and life of another to push that person to a place so bad where the more desirable alternative was death.

And part of him hoped that Dylan had seen the parallel when he was near the end of his own life.

While he had to admit that the boy didn't deserve to die, he also had to come to terms with the fact that the father in him found it reprehensible what he'd done to Emily, and that Dylan had never learned that he just couldn't treat people the way he'd treated Emily.

And Beckett, even though she had to maintain the tough cop exterior, was actually kind of glad, deep down inside of her, that she couldn't actually arrest any one person. Because they all alibied each other out. They all had cause, but they all had alibis. And there was enough conflicting data that any one of them could have done it. The DA had agreed that with that many holes in the case, there would be no way he could get a conviction.

No solve, but she couldn't help but feel anything other than relief.

But then it settled into her, like it always did eventually, that he, her partner, still didn't know the whole truth. He was still in the dark about that May day.

Emily had kept her secret too long, trying to deal with it herself. But it hadn't worked for her. She needed help, but by the time she told what was going on and asked for help, too much damage had been done. She was damaged by all she had endured, and anything that was done to remedy the situation just wasn't enough to help. She couldn't see any relief in sight.

Detective Beckett went home that night, alone. And Kate, minus the tough cop persona, sat on her couch and thought. She thought about the mess that her life had become; where she basically had, right at her fingertips, what most girls dreamed of: a wonderful, handsome man who loved her. But she never acknowledged that love. She pushed the man away. She tried to handle it herself, like Emily. And she lied to him.

Actions. They had an effect on others; nobody lived in a vacuum and it was silly to think that what we said or did had no effect on others. Yet she knew there were people in this world who only thought of themselves. They _did_ act as if they lived in a vacuum. Or maybe they just didn't care what effect they did have on the people around them. Dylan, it seemed, was like this. And his actions had worn down a young girl so much that she saw no other way out than to try to escape from her life by ending it.

Kate's mind flashed back to her own actions since last summer. And suddenly, it became crystal clear to her, and she started to feel just a little bit sick with the thought.

She was acting as selfishly as Dylan had been. She was so hell-bent on getting everything straightened away in her own life that she ignored the fact that her shooting didn't just affect her. The guys, Lanie, Castle...they were all affected. Hell, she supposed even Martha and Alexis were too. But Rick...he was the one...

God.

She took a breath, closing her eyes as she remembered his face above her in the cemetery as he begged her to hold on. As he told her he loved her. Twice. Her gut clenched as she thought back to that look on his face, the tears running down his face, the look of fear in his eyes. For her, because of her. He loved her. She heard.

But then she lied about it. She told herself that she needed time, but she was now just realizing that her supposed needs had put her into the same class as Dylan; doing something for yourself, with no regard for how it affected others.

And she knew that it had affected him; how could it not? How could you keep your feelings like that silent for that long, to finally let them out before you thought it might be too late, to going back to keeping them a secret again? When she thought about it like that, it made her feel just that much worse. Because she should have told him. He'd proven to her, through these long months since then, that she could have told him that she heard him way back then. He'd been so patient. And somehow, for the first time, she realized what it must have cost him all of these months, to feel the way he did but still be able to keep her at arm's length, treating her no differently than he had a year ago. When she knew all along that he loved her.

She felt so low.

She knew she had issues; hell, everyone had issues. But she didn't have the right to make her issues into someone else's issues. It might have been the easiest course of action that she could have taken. But that didn't make it fair, not to him. He'd put it all out there for her, and she'd ignored him. No, she did more than ignore him. She'd lied to him, and she realized that she perpetrated that lie every day by not admitting that she had full memories of her shooting and the immediate aftermath. And that wasn't fair to him.

With new resolve, before she could change her mind, she got up off that couch, and she tried to steel herself to face what she should have faced all of those months ago.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He opened the door, his surprise at seeing her standing there at this time of night evident on his face. "Kate..." he said simply. "Uh...come on in." He stepped aside, allowing her to enter his loft, but she just looked at him with wide eyes. Wide worried eyes.

"Castle, are you busy?" God, she was already handling this badly, again, but now that she was here and was faced with the man, it wasn't as easy as she thought it would be.

"No, not really," he told her, his brow furrowing a bit. "Is there a problem with the case?"

Yes, of course he'd think there was a problem with the case, with her just showing up at his door like this. In his mind, there wouldn't be any other reason.

"No. Um..." She glanced around the loft then, and suddenly realized how intimidating it all was, being in _his_ space, with not only him by her, but the essence and feeling of him all around her. So on impulse, she asked, "Would you go for a walk with me?"

His eyes widened. "Now?"

She looked around nervously, and he stared at her quizzically. She was acting oddly, she knew it. And he was picking up on it, because he always picked up on things like that. "Yeah, now." Then she gave a light smile. "Don't worry, Castle. I have my gun. I'll protect you."

He shrugged. "Okay. Let me grab a jacket and get some shoes on." She didn't show any inking of moving from where she was, let alone coming inside to sit down for a minute, so he just grabbed whatever pair of shoes was laying by the door and started to put them on. He grabbed the jacket and shrugged into it, and then took his phone out of his pocket as they exited the loft, apparently texting something.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Alexis that I'm going for a walk. Just so she knows I'm not here."

She always liked seeing the caring, responsible 'Dad' side of him. "Oh. Is she at one of her friends' houses?"

"No. She's in her room working on an outline for a paper."

Kate stared at him as they caught the elevator. "You _texted_ your daughter and she was right upstairs? You couldn't just walk up and tell her, or even yell up the stairs? Or maybe leave a note for her?" At his blank look, she finished with, "Boy, you _do_ love your technology, don't you?"

"And my unlimited texting plan," he agreed with a grin.

They exited the front door and began walking. It was a very well-lit street, and not a crime-infested neighborhood so she didn't have to worry too much. "So did you just have some need for fresh air or did you have something specific you wanted to talk to me about?" His tone was casual, concerned Castle. Two years ago, she would have automatically thought that he was just getting fodder for one of his books. But now she knew that the concern was genuine.

She took a breath. Now that the moment was here, she found that it was more difficult than she thought it would be. Once she'd gotten the idea to come here, she didn't really think very much about the actual delivery of the message. "I...I was thinking about the case. Dylan Laskey."

He nodded. "Call me insensitive, awful or cruel, but I just can't find very much sympathy for him, not after what we found out about him and what he did to Emily Andrews. But what still floors me is how did he get away with it for _so_ long that it got to that point, where that girl killed herself essentially because of what he did? How is it that no other kids saw, no other teachers? Why did nobody do or say anything to help that girl?"

She thought for a moment, but it was a question they'd all asked themselves several times. And still, nobody had the answers. "I don't know. I don't know if we'll ever know. But I just hope that it opened everyone's eyes enough so that this type of thing doesn't happen again."

"But that's just it. You know it will." He sighed frustratedly. "I know _he_ was your case, but I can't help but think it was her, that _she_ was the real case and he was just..."

"A jerk?"

"A budding sociopath is more what I was thinking, to be able to torment that girl and then have the audacity to call her a bitch when she killed herself because of it." She nodded, but he was suprised when he saw her steps beside him hesitate and falter ever so slightly. It wasn't very much, but _he_ noticed it. Like he noticed a lot about her.

"You okay?" he asked then.

Honesty. She was going for honesty, right? That's why she was here, after all. Because she didn't want to be like Dylan.

"No, not really," she admitted softly.

He didn't say anything for a moment, somewhat stunned, wondering if he'd actually just heard her admit that she was bothered by something. But, as always, he knew he needed to play it cool. "Anything I can help with?"

On impulse, pure impulse, she grabbed his hand as they were walking, not doing something so intimate as entwining their fingers, but holding his hand securely just the same. It wasn't something they normally did. Not at all. But she needed the connection right then, because she was trying to steel herself for what she knew she needed to say. And some part of her probably felt as though if she was holding his hand, he couldn't run away when she got to the parts where she finally admitted how selfish and awful she'd been to him.

"Yeah," she finally responded to his question.

In his mind, he was wondering who this person was who was walking beside of him, holding his hand. _Holding his hand._ She just didn't do that. Well, she did it that one time they were cuffed together, but that was just because it worked better with the cuffs. But now... He didn't know what to do. Especially not with her hand in his, holding on so securely, when it felt so good. So he just said, "What?"

He must have waited too long in the conversation volley, because she turned to him and asked, "What?"

He gave her a quizzical look to somewhat match her own. "What _what_?"

"Castle..." she told him, her voice indicating some level of frustration in their nonsensical exchange.

"Hey, don't get all tetchy with me," he told her quickly, defending himself, but good-naturedly and with a slight smile. "You're the one who said I could help with something and then didn't elaborate."

She let out a huff. Here she was, trying to confess, and then she acts like she was getting annoyed with him. _Again_. "Yes, I did say that. I'm sorry." She figured she might as well get used to saying the words, because she was going to be doing a lot of apologizing by the end of this walk.

From his end, he could see that she seemed to be in some sort of a mood. First she was voluntarily holding his hand, and then she apologized for getting annoyed? She always got annoyed with him and she never apologized. What was going on with her? He really wanted to know, but he didn't dare prompt her anymore. So he just kept his hold on her hand, and kept walking beside her, letting her set the pace of not only the walk, but also the conversation.

Finally, looking down, she said, "I started thinking about Dylan when I got home. And I know what you mean about viewing Emily as the victim and not him. When it came out about what he'd done, and then not just to her but to other kids...it just got hard to muster up any sympathy for him."

Castle nodded and made a small sound of agreement.

"But it got me thinking...wondering how long he'd thought he was above human decency. I mean, I know he was only fifteen, but in interviewing all of those people, not one person said anything good about his character. When a child dies, that's all people can usually talk about, but not with this kid. People just mentioned that he was good in sports or that he was a 'nice-looking young man'. How was it that he thought he could just do and say whatever he wanted, whatever made _him_ feel good, without regard to anyone else's feelings? Was he always like that? Did his parents raise him with no empathy or even moderate concern for other people?"

"You met the parents, Kate. I think you know the answer to that question."

She nodded. On paper, Dylan looked to be the perfect child. Smart, athletically talented, personable and nice looking. But his parents acted like he could do no wrong. Of course, some of that was grief talking; their child was dead, and once that happened, he became perfect in their eyes. But all of the detectives suspected that his parents had had that attitude for longer than the few days since the boy's death, and as such had never held him accountable for anything. He grew up feeling that he could do anything he wanted.

And it was that whole feeling that caused her to look at how she behaved toward Rick. And then she laughed a bit; that was her impression of him when he first started shadowing her. She felt like he was shallow; like he cared only about himself, that he could do or have whatever he wanted. But how times changed! She'd known since last summer that he wanted her, but he wasn't doing anything about it. He was being patient, for her, and wasn't thinking of himself at all. But now she was the one hiding, and lying, and just trying to do whatever _she_ wanted without regard for _him_.

She squeezed his hand a little bit, just to give herself a little boost of mental strength before she took the plunge. "I just...I'm afraid I'm more like him than I want to be," she said softly.

"What?" he exclaimed. "You...like _him_? Like Dylan? Kate...I...wait a minute. Am I being punked? Is that why you wanted me to come outside? Okay, where are the cameras?" He began to swing his head from side to side, as if looking around for people holding hidden cameras.

She took their joined hands and swatted his chest lightly with them. "God, Castle," she told him, shaking her head. "There aren't any stupid cameras."

"Well then why in the world would you say that you're like that little teenage sociopath? You're nothing like that! I mean, when you twist my ear, you _do_ use kind of a death grip, and you won't admit to being in my fan club-hey, I just had a thought...you're CastleFreak425, aren't you? But anyway, you do like to abuse me sometimes, but hey, I can take it. I'm tough. I've stuck around this long, right? And if you were a sociopath, then I...oh, then I actually probably _would_ still be sticking around to watch you. You'd be even cooler than you already are." He paused a moment as he thought about what he was saying. "Oh. I'm not really proving my point about you not being a sociopath, am I?"

"Not too well, no," she answered with a slight smile.

"Well, you're not a sociopath, or a bully, or whatever other bad thing you were going to describe yourself as. You can just stop it. I know you normally don't want to listen to me, but listen to me about that."

The time had come. He'd just given her a perfect chance. And she almost wanted to let the chance slip off into the dark night around them, but she made herself grab hold of it, just like she'd grabbed Castle's hand.

"I did listen to you. You just didn't know it," she said softly, "because I lied to you about it."

She could tell that he turned his head to look at her when she'd spoken those words, but she couldn't look back at him. They still kept walking, although their steps slowed.

"You lied to me?" Somehow, the joking, 'Castle' quality was gone from his voice, and he just sounded curious...and cautious.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, I did. And I'm sorry about it. It sounds so ridiculous now, just saying I'm sorry after all of this time, but I am. I just...I didn't know what to do, before. And really, I'm not entirely sure what to do now. But before...I ran, and I lied, and I didn't tell you. And that was wrong...I know that now. I should have been honest with you from the start. But I was so wrapped up in myself and getting through my issues that I never thought about how other people were affected too. I did what _I_ wanted, what I thought _I_ needed, and I didn't think about how my decisions affected anyone else." She finally paused in what she was saying. But just as his mind started to use the silence to try to decipher what she was saying, she started speaking again, only more softly. "Just like Dylan did." They were walking even more slowly now, and it was good that there wasn't anyone behind them or they definitely would have been blocking the sidewalk. "I'm sorry, Rick. You didn't deserve to have me treat you the way I did."

She reached up with her free hand to swipe at the tears that were now forming in her eyes. But still, he didn't say anything, so she forged on. "I should have really realized it before, how what I did wasn't fair to you. It was just so long ago, and I was so messed up. I _am_ still messed up, but I know that's no excuse. That's why I'm with you now."

Finally, he spoke. "Kate...when did you lie to me?"

She took another ragged breath and looked up at what she could see of the sky through the tall buildings. She still couldn't look at him. "Almost ten months ago now."

"Ten months?" His voice was deadly serious now, and his steps had slowed so much they'd stopped. She was ahead of him, and he tugged on her had so she'd finally turn around and face him when he asked the next question. She did turn around, but only at the insistance of that hand of his that she was holding. And after they'd stopped walking and she'd turned toward him, she'd finally gotten brave enough to look him in the face. And when she did, she was just a little taken aback by the intense look in his eyes, which were echoed by the ultra-serious tone of his voice as he said, "Kate, exactly what did you lie to me about ten months ago?" Somehow, in the way he asked the question, she knew that his mind was going to the exact day that hers was already at.

She took another breath, although it didn't really help. She still felt like her stomach was doing somersaults when she finally mustered up enough courage to tell him, "I remember getting shot, Rick. And I remember everything that happened after that until I passed out."

_**I had a bunch of different ways of doing this that I was toying around with, and this is what won. Hope you liked it. Reviews and comments are always appreciated.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**I'm flattered that so many of you seemed to like the first chapter. Truckloads of thank yous to everyone who took the time to leave me a review. Although I have to wonder, b/c I had about three times as many story alerts as I had reviews, in addition to several new author alerts, and that's kind of...weird to me. I mean, if you like it enough to want to read more, of this story or by me in general, then I really want to know WHAT you liked about it, even if it's just something simple. One reviewer pointed out that she liked how I had Beckett feeling guilty and selfish for keeping her secret, because not a lot of fics touch on that. It's those comments that convince me that people really DO want to read more, as opposed to them just maybe having had a twitchy mouse finger and accidentally clicking the check box for 'story alert' when they really thought the story was a load of crapola. So yeah, please tell me what you like, or what you don't like. It helps. And you just might end up getting more and better stuff to read. (And more often, too.)**_

_**A couple of comments: Pynki616, I'll trust that your Dylan isn't a sociopath. ;-) In another story, I used the name 'Noah' for an annoying kid. And in thinking about it, I guess I tend to reuse the names of other children that annoy my own kids (so I hear about them a lot...'Do you know what Dylan did today?') Hmmm...I'll have to watch that. Honestly, when I picked his name, I just grabbed it out of thin air. And re: the aformentioned selfishness: thanks to MTAM and eyrianone for picking up on that. Obviously, I think it's a valid point, and I really wonder if the show is going to touch on that, if she's going to show regret and if he's going to show any anger for her not admitting it sooner. It looks like the show is really hitting the 'keeping secrets' subtext thing kinda heavy lately, so it could be interesting when it comes out, and how they deal with it.**_

_**By the way, I do have a twitter account and I try to tweet when I've posted an update to a story. I'm xxGoogiexx .**_

_**Disclaimer: Nothing about the show or characters is owned by me. If I did own them, I wouldn't be here writing. :)**_

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><p><em>Previously:<em>

_Finally, he spoke. "Kate...when did you lie to me?"_

_She took another ragged breath and looked up at what she could see of the sky through the tall buildings. She still couldn't look at him. "Almost ten months ago now."_

_"Ten months?" His voice was deadly serious now, and his steps had slowed so much they'd stopped. She was ahead of him, and he tugged on her had so she'd finally turn around and face him when he asked the next question. She did turn around, but only at the insistance of that hand of his that she was holding. And after they'd stopped walking and she'd turned toward him, she'd finally gotten brave enough to look him in the face. And when she did, she was just a little taken aback by the intense look in his eyes, which were echoed by the ultra-serious tone of his voice as he said, "Kate, exactly what did you lie to me about ten months ago?" Somehow, in the way he asked the question, she knew that his mind was going to the exact day that hers was already at._

_She took another breath, although it didn't really help. She still felt like her stomach was doing somersaults when she finally mustered up enough courage to tell him, "I remember getting shot, Rick. And I remember everything that happened after that until I passed out."_

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><p>He just looked at her for a full minute, not moving. She saw him swallow and purse his lips, but other than that, he was totally still. But at least he was still holding her hand, so that was something.<p>

"You remember," he said, finally. "You remember it all."

"Yes." She nodded.

"You remember...me...then..." His voice held a note of incredulity.

For once, the man with all of the words couldn't seem to find them, couldn't seem to articulate them. In another time or place, she might have laughed. Now, it was just like another dagger in her, seeing what her lie had cost him, had turned him into.

And it was a statement, not a question. He wasn't questioning her, because he knew she was telling the truth. He knew she'd lied, had _been_ lying, had _been _deceiving him for those ten months.

"I remember you kneeling above me, while I was laying on the ground. And you held me, and..." She had to stop to take a breath, because she was finding the words harder and harder to form, and she was finding that it was becoming harder and harder to keep her composure. "And you...you told me not to leave you...God, you were pleading with me to stay with you, and then..." She could feel the tears in her eyes then, and she furiously blinked them back and swiped at her eye with her free hand. "And then you told me that y-"

"Yeah," he quickly interrupted in a flat voice, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words that would come next spoken aloud. "I remember. I just...didn't think you did. Because you_ told _me that you didn't." His voice, though still flat, had a note of challenge to it. A somewhat accusatory note of challenge.

"I know. I know what I told you, and I'm sorry."

He pursed his lips and gave her a little nod that could have meant anything. "Yeah." She chose to hope that it was a positive sign, that he was just digesting the news, processing her apology. But then his gaze flitted down to where their hands were still joined, and he slowly extricated his hand from hers and shoved it into his pocket, as if he wanted to hide it from her so she couldn't take it again.

No, she wanted to say. When she no longer had that contact with him-when he'd intentionally removed that contact that they had, when before he'd been quite content with it-her heart fell just a little bit, and the knot in her stomach grew just a little bit. "Castle..."

He just stood there, staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, but didn't say a word. Then he took his hands out of his pockets and ran them through his hair as he walked a few steps to stand by a light pole. He leaned heavily against the pole, his body slumping as he looked at the ground.

"Rick, please say something," she implored, walking the few steps to stand by him again.

He still looked at the ground, but he shook his head a little bit. His arm raised, palm up, in a gesture like he was going to articulate something, but then just let it drop down to his side again. But finally, he said, "I don't know what to say. Well, scratch that. I guess one thing does come to mind. I feel like a fool. How's that?"

The self-censure in his words had her gut knotting all over again. And she jumped to his defense, because he didn't seem to want to defend himself. "I don't know why you'd say that. You're not a fool. Not at all."

He laughed, a hollow sound escaping from his mouth. "Yeah, right. You knew," he said into the night air, still sounding almost disbelieving. "You knew how I felt, all that time-_all that time_, Kate-and you never thought I should know?" He shook his head slowly from side to side. "I...just...I asked, a couple of times, you know?" She nodded, once again being reminded of how she lied to him. "There were a few times I thought that..." he trailed off before shaking his head. "I am _so_ stupid. I _feel_ so stupid now. And pathetic."

Normally, she might have made a joke. But this wasn't normal. "Rick...I'm sorry. I hate saying that, but in a way I can't say it enough. But you're not stupid, not at all. And you're not pathetic."

He looked at her and cocked his eyebrow. "Yeah, right. I confess my innermost feelings to you, and then I didn't even know that you really _had_ heard me. I feel like the geek that wrote the secret love note to the popular head cheerleader and then everyone found out about it. And then I still just kept showing up, and...hoping... I must have looked like such a damn fool, when you knew how I felt all along but I couldn't do anything about it."

She suddenly felt the need to tell him more, even though she'd explained a lot of it already. But that was before her confession, so who even knew if he still remembered after the bombshell she'd just dropped on him?

"Castle, I was so messed up. You...in the cemetery...you were the first thing that I thought of when I woke up. But then throughout everything, I realized that that someone wanted me dead. Someone tried to kill me, and they came this close," she told him, putting her thumb and forefinger almost together to illustrate her point, "to succeeding. And I just couldn't drag you into that. I was being consumed by everything, by my mother's case, by Roy's involvement. And then I was shot. And doctors start quoting recovery in terms of months, not days or weeks. Months. And with the case, I knew I couldn't give you what you needed, or wanted, so I took the easiest way out that I could think of, and I just said that I didn't remember."

Once again, he was back to saying nothing, just staring at the ground, so she forged on. "I truly thought it was for the best. I never wanted you to feel like a fool, or stupid, or anything like that. I just thought...I needed time, and I didn't think I could handle your feelings for me, along with everything else when I was trying recover and make some sense of my life...of what my life had become."

But then she knew she had to get to the present, to why she'd brought him out here on this walk. "And tonight, in thinking of all of that, it hit me that I was behaving a lot like Dylan Laskey. I made decisions after my shooting, and I pushed people away. Getting shot like that...it affected me, profoundly. But I didn't realize...I didn't _really_ realize then that it affected other people a lot too. I was caught up in my own problems, and I was selfish." She made the statement with no sugar-coating, letting it hang out there in the air while she took another breath. "In that warehouse, Roy said that he made mistakes all of those years ago, and he spent the years since then trying to atone for those mistakes. I'm telling you now...I know I made a big mistake in lying to you. I know that now, and I'm coming clean with you, because I know you deserve that. You deserve my honesty, for the way you stuck by me even though I pushed you away. I'm sorry, Rick." She reached out and touched his arm, but after several seconds when he didn't even acknowledge her touch, she let it drop again.

After her speech, she just looked at him, waiting for him to say something. There was more she had to say, more apologizing she knew she had to do, but that could wait. She needed to hear from him first. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he looked up into her eyes. "What do you want me to say, Kate?"

"I don't know, exactly. Can you understand a little bit of what I was feeling back then?"

"Maybe. But can you understand how it feels to say those words to someone, and then find out that that someone has been lying to you for ten months, choosing to ignore those words? Can you understand what I'm feeling_ right now_?"

She winced a bit, hearing the pain in his voice. She nodded. "Yes. I know, or at least I can try to imagine. I did the the selfish thing, the wrong thing before...I know that. But I'm trying to do the right thing now."

His eyes bore into her watery ones for a while, as if he was trying to read her. She sensed that he felt he couldn't read her, like he didn't trust himself anymore. And she did that to him. Where once she wouldn't have wanted him to be able to read her so well, now it seemed that she wanted just the opposite. She wanted him to see that she was telling the truth, that she was sorry, that she realized and deeply regretted the effect that her secret was now having on him. And she told...she got it out in the open. But now, his eyes told her that he just didn't trust her, not right now, and he really didn't trust his own interpretations of her.

"Rick..." she started again, at the same time as he pushed his body off the lightpole.

He held up a hand. "I think I need to be alone, Kate." At his words, her repaired heart figuratively fell to the ground. "I need to process this. Try to find a way that I don't feel like such a damn idiot."

"God, Castle. I told you that this is _my_ fault, okay? So stop beating yourself up." And she didn't want him to leave, not now, not like this.

"Oh, I know it's your fault. Well, not getting shot, but keeping...you know...from me." He'd kept it bottled up for so long since that day in the cemetery that he found he couldn't easily voice the words again. And he didn't want to; it hurt too much to think about them. "But I still feel the way I feel, and simple apologies and assigning blame aren't going to make the feelings go away just like that," he told her, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

He walked a few steps away from her, but then turned around again. "I'll call you. And yes, those are the same words you said to me in your hospital room. But now that I know what it feels like, I can tell you that I won't keep you waiting for four months."

She deserved that. And what he spoke was the absolute truth anyway, so even though it hurt, she couldn't fault him for saying it because she probably would have said the same thing. "Castle...Rick...I _am_ sorry. And I...what you said back then..." She looked down and swallowed, trying to keep the emotion at bay. "Please know that it meant a lot. It really did. And it...uh...still does," she finished softly.

And with that, he nodded at her in dismissal and started walking away from her down the street.

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><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading! Where do you think they'll go now? Now don't forget...please pass on your feedback. Much Happy Castle Fairy Dust will rain down upon those who do! <strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks for all of the feedback and alerts, etc. Noorlo, you pretty much embarrassed me, but thanks for the glowingly wonderful words. And all of the rest of you...wow. Such wonderful, detailed comments. And I know it's cool to see your (screen) name mentioned, so here it goes: MANY thanks to eyrianone, CelesteJEvans, Docner89, MTAM, phnxgrl, failbaby, crazy4castle, Ariel119, CovenStine, YouSpeakToMySoul, Madwine, the aforementioned Noorlo, I'm Widget, BeckettNYPD, janinsc, Pecan Tan, tfnmal23, Kate56, 1477166, Mark C, hhooppyy, linnic, and Steve 1961. As always, I take your comments to heart and if someone brings up a good point, I may try to incorporate it into the story. **_

_**Disclaimer: If I had any claim to the show or characters, you'd be seeing this on TV instead of reading it here.**_

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><p><em>Previously: He walked a few steps away from her, but then turned around again. "I'll call you. And yes, those are the same words you said to me in your hospital room. But now that I know what it feels like, I can tell you that I won't keep you waiting for four months."<em>

_She deserved that. And what he spoke was the absolute truth anyway, so even though it hurt, she couldn't fault him for saying it because she probably would have said the same thing. "Castle...Rick...I am sorry. And I...what you said back then..." She looked down and swallowed, trying to keep the emotion at bay. "Please know that it meant a lot. It really did. And it...uh...still does," she finished softly._

_And with that, he nodded at her in dismissal and started walking away from her down the street._

Rick had always had that niggling little suspicion whenever Kate claimed amnesia about her shooting that something was just...off about the whole thing. He suspected there was more to the story than she was letting on, like maybe she was having strange flashes about what he said. He could see how something like that might make her hesitant to bring it up with him. He could understand how it would probably be really uncomfortable for her to say, "Oh, by the way, Castle, I have these flashes where you say that you love me, so what's up with that?" Uncomfortable, yeah. So he could always understand how she might not want to bring that up. But he never dreamed that it was actually that she remembered everything, including his confessions, clearly.

His confessions of love for her.

And she chose to lie about hearing it.

Even now, it hurt to think of it and put a name to it. He still felt the emotion within him, certainly; that hadn't changed. In fact, it had probably gotten stronger, despite her exile from him and his anger and disillusionment over that. But he was still just so grateful sometimes that she was there with him, healing, living her life. Grateful that she was even still alive. And the simple fact of his feelings for her combined with her survival still took precedence and made everything else, even the bad stuff, pale in comparison. So, like he told his daughter all of those months ago, it was enough for now.

But, then again, that was when he thought that the trauma of being shot had wiped her memory of the shooting and the immediate aftermath. But now, to know that she'd been intentionally hiding it...well, that certainly put a new spin on things.

Rick was honest when he told her how he felt, like the geeky kid with the crush on the popular girl and everyone else laughs at him. He'd had his share of meaningless flings before he met her, and when he began to develop real feelings for her, he didn't let on because he had that feeling, deep down, that she'd just laugh in his face. But then he was forced to tell her before it might be too late.

His mind kept coming back to the fact that she knew, she remembered. Actually, she'd never forgotten. And she'd deliberately lied to him about it. She said she couldn't deal with it. To a point, he could understand that. But what about all of the months since then, all of those months that they'd worked together, had been kidnapped and had their lives threatened?

And then, there was the big question that had been churning around in his mind for the last day and a half: did she keep it from him because she _didn't_ have feelings for him, or because she _did_?

Sometimes he thought that she was developing some reciprocal feelings for him. When she got jealous over Serena Kaye, or when she found out that Sophia had inspired a character long before Nikki Heat. When she took his hand during the bank robbery, when she found him with the other hostages, or when she came home for dinner with him afterwards. Especially when she made the 'next time without the tiger' comment. Just sometimes when she looked at him.

Since she came back to work and sought him out after her exile, he thought that maybe, just maybe, even though she hadn't heard his declaration ten months ago, she just might be starting to see that he had staying power, at least when it came to her. He thought she might be finally starting to see that his feelings for her went far beyond the books, and into something very personal and very real.

And he could work with that. He had been working with that, along that premise, all of this time. But then that had been shattered when she'd come clean, and he realized that she'd known the depth of his feelings all along, and had chosen to do nothing about it. She just let him drift in limbo all of those months, unknowing, seemingly uncaring as to what it must be like for him to see her day after day but not be able to make even the slightest gesture to let her know that she meant far more to him than just a muse, or a pseudo work partner.

But now, knowing that she knew his feelings for her since last may...he just didn't understand it. Fine, she'd said she needed space. She needed to deal with getting shot and recovering, deal with what she'd found out about Montgomery. She couldn't handle dealing with him, and with his newly revealed feelings for her. To a point, yes, he could understand it. But, God, he _loved_ her. He told her that. He just wanted to be there for her, and if that meant not pushing, then he would do that. If she remembered the whole time what he'd told her in the cemetery, and then she saw first-hand how he was after they started working together again, why didn't she tell him sooner? Couldn't she _see_ how he _wasn't_ pushing her? Granted, he did it because he thought she hadn't heard him, but when it became apparent that he was just trying to help her, in any way she would let him, why didn't she tell him then? Months ago? How much did he have to prove himself to her?

He didn't know what to do; he didn't know what to think. On one hand, he had this woman that was so special to him, and he thought they were doing a dance toward a relationship, getting closer slowly but surely. He didn't know how she felt, and she didn't know how he felt (or so he thought). But they were speaking nonverbally to each other, and he was starting to read her nonverbal messages as something more than 'just friends'. He'd always thought that she was going slowly because she was unsure about his motives or _his_ feelings. But now, it turned out, that she knew about his motives and his feelings _the whole damn time_.

So, since he walked away from her, he was left wondering why in the world she confessed. What purpose could it have, except to hurt him? Oh, yeah. She wanted to ease her guilt at lying to him for ten months. She saw some sort of parallel between herself and that little Laskey punk, so she wanted to do what she could to make herself feel better. But Kate _knew_ how he felt. She knew, or she should have known, that he would be upset. And thinking back to her demeanor when she showed up at his door, she probably did know that. But still, he was left with...why. Why tell him now?

And during her confession, she never said anything about her feelings on the matter of 'them', aside from the fact of being sorry she kept it from him, and saying that his confession 'meant a lot'. It 'meant a lot.' What in the hell did that mean?

So he'd spent the last few days alternating between roaming aimlessly around his office and sagging into a chair. Now was the time for the chair, he thought as he sat down. He knew he needed to talk to her sometime, but he just still almost couldn't stomach the thought yet. He was still angry. He was still hurt. And he still felt stupid.

He was exhausted. And he closed his eyes, leaning back into the softness of the chair thinking that ignorance really was bliss sometimes. He didn't know the truth, but he had to think that that was almost better than what he was feeling right now.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The hell with this.

It had been two days since she'd watched Castle walk away from her on that dark street. Well, actually, it was a day and a half, but who was counting?

She was. Dammit.

She'd had her revelation about Dylan Laskey, and the parallels with his life that she'd seen in her own actions. That was nearly two days ago. Two long days since she'd acted on those revelations and had taken the risk to go to Castle and 'fess up. She hadn't seen him since then, and she missed him.

She missed him. She'd admit it.

And the thing that almost killed her was that it hadn't even been two days since he'd walked away from her.

But _she'd_ kept _him_ waiting for four months. She sighed in frustration then (actually for about the hundredth time since that night), because she knew that however long he made her wait, she deserved every minute of it.

But she still missed him. And she found that admitting that, even though it was only to herself, wasn't nearly as hard as she thought it would be.

Well, that was someplace to start, she thought, as she grabbed her jacket and yelled to Ryan and Esposito that she had an appointment and she may not be back until the next day. If she would have stuck around, she would have seen them look at each other in genuine surprise...Beckett cutting out early? No. Never. But they'd just witnessed it, and in their shock, they just mumbled their daily farewells as she headed for the elevator.

She got to Castle's loft in record time, thanks in part to the lighter traffic in the middle of the day. She hesitated at the door, but then before she could wimp out, she pushed her finger onto the buzzer and held it there for a few seconds. She could hear the faint noise from inside the loft, but nothing else. After a full minute, she pushed the buzzer again. There was no sound at first, but just as she was turning away, thinking he wasn't home, she heard a muffled thump and an exclamation coming from inside the loft. So she turned back to the door and tapped the buzzer again just to let him know she was still there.

And finally, the door was opened by a disheveled-looking Richard Castle, running a hand through his hair.

Right at first, he looked as though he was surprised to see her standing there. But then, unmistakably, his eyes hardened when he registered that she was standing there in front of him.

And she was struck by the difference is reactions between this time that she was at his door and the last time she was there, before they went for their walk two nights ago. Then, he was surprised, but obviously happy to see her.

And this time he wasn't happy to see her. That, too, was obvious.

"Castle, we need to talk," she told him, feeling like she should say something. She wasn't really mentally prepared for the look on his face, and that lame statement was all that she could muster. Then she just stood there, waiting for his reply, hoping, after seeing the look on his face, that he wouldn't slam the door in her face.

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><p><em><strong>The next conversation is going to be too long, so I had to stop this chapter there. <strong>_

_**Several people have brought up his secret. I will address that eventually. But right now, my Castle is still reeling from her confession and he's trying to figure out how he feels. He's trying to figure out how she feels. He's trying to figure out how to react. And his mind is still spinning about all of that, so he hasn't even thought about his secret yet. **_

_**But...Hope you enjoyed it!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Well, without being TOO spoilery or cocky, I have to say that with the previous chapters, it appears that I've pegged the 'real' Castle's reaction to the revelation pretty well. Based on the promo that came out, he used the word 'fool' to describe himself. And in the last chapter, I had him describe himself as an idiot. Not too far off! But really, it wasn't much of a stretch...who WOULDN'T feel that way after being lied to/misled for that long?**_

_**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. With the site having problems, I was wondering if a lot of the subscribers/readers would even know there was a new chapter. I know several people found it via my twitter account, so once again, it's xxGoogiexx, if you want to follow me.**_

_**It's funny that this is really coming into play now; I started this story not even thinking about when the secrets would actually come out in the show.**_

_**Disclaimer: Although I'd love to claim otherwise, I'm nothing but a fan.**_

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><p><em>Previously: And finally, the door was opened by a disheveled-looking Richard Castle, running a hand through his hair.<em>

_Right at first, he looked as though he was surprised to see her standing there. But then, unmistakably, his eyes hardened when he registered that she was standing there in front of him._

_And she was struck by the difference is reactions between this time that she was at his door and the last time she was there, before they went for their walk two nights ago. Then, he was surprised, but obviously happy to see her._

_And this time he wasn't happy to see her. That, too, was obvious._

_"Castle, we need to talk," she told him, feeling like she should say something. She wasn't really mentally prepared for the look on his face, and that lame statement was all that she could muster. Then she just stood there, waiting for his reply, hoping, after seeing the look on his face, that he wouldn't slam the door in her face._

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><p>He stared at her after she made her proclamation about them needing to talk. Finally, he said, "<em>Really<em>, Kate?" He shook his head and looked away quickly before piercing her with his eyes again. "_Now_ you decide that we need to talk? Not ten months ago? Not any time during the four months that you were gone, and I was worrying myself sick wondering how you were doing?" Some part of him registered her wince when he said that, but it wasn't big enough to make him stop, not when he appeared to be on a roll like he was now. "Not in any of the six months after that when we've been working together, getting shot at, or almost eaten by a tiger, or almost drowned in your car? You decide _now_ is a good time to talk?" He stepped aside and gave a grand gesture with his left arm toward his apartment. "Well, Detective, then by all means, come on in and let's _talk._"

She gave him a tense look before she stepped through the door slowly. As he shut the door behind her, he said, "Well, now that we know that you're not suffering from any memory loss, I have to wonder if _I_ might be. Because you see, I just don't remember calling you. I mean, I said I needed to think and that I'd call you, but here you are, and I don't have any memory of actually calling you."

'Oh, he was in fine form tonight, wasn't he?' Kate thought. She didn't know if she'd ever heard so much sarcasm come spewing from him in such a short span of time as what she'd just heard. "No, Castle," she tried, "You didn't call me, and you're well aware of that. Look...I made a lot of mistakes, okay? And one of them was not calling you for four months. But I don't want us to repeat the same mistake again, so here I am." Then, on impulse, she added, "So deal with it." If he could be sarcastic, then dammit, she could be a little cocky. And she didn't care, as long as it got them to talk and blew apart this stalemate of silence between them.

"Deal with it?" he asked her incredulously. "Seriously, Beckett? You think I haven't been 'dealing with it'? Right." He huffed out a breath. "I've been dealing with so much for the last ten months that after this, I think I'm just ready to be fully dealt out. I fold."

And literally, he did. As he said that, he slumped onto the couch and leaned his head back, scrubbing his hands over his face in a tired gesture that was a testimonial to just how much her lie had affected him. She wanted to go comfort him, somehow, but she knew she couldn't. Not at least physically. All she had left were words, but Lord knew that she was certainly no expert in that department unless it was in an interrogation room.

She sat down on the other end of the couch. "I'm sorry, Rick," she told him softly. "I can't tell you how much I regret what I did. The words don't seem adequate, but they're all I have right now. I'm so sorry."

He opened his eyes and stared at her pointedly. "Then why did you do it? And even more importantly, why did you _perpetuate_ it?"

She looked down at her hands, trying to find the words to explain away her choices for those ten months, but even as she thought of them now, they sounded silly and thin. She knew she had to say something, so she made her eyes look back up at him. "You know some of it...I told you some of it two nights ago."

"Yeah, you were messed up. Well, welcome to the club, Beckett. We're all messed up in our own ways."

"I was selfish," she blurted out.

"You won't get any argument from me there." His tone was bold, but at the same time very matter-of-fact. And it was obvious he wasn't going to cut her any slack. He wasn't going to go easy on her. She hurt him, and his kid gloves were off now.

"In the hospital, like I told you, what you said...it was the first thing I thought of when woke up. But I was hurting, and also like I told you, there was just so much going around in my mind."

"Yeah." He started holding up fingers as he recited the different topics. "Montgomery, your mom's case, you being shot, prospects of a long recovery...oh, and let's not forget, there's that fool of a guy that's been following you around who all of a sudden copped to some pretty deep feelings for you. While you're involved with someone else. And you were shot, so you know, you couldn't tell him to just get lost. So you did the next best thing and pretended it never happened in the first place."

"Castle, it wasn't like that!" she told him, losing a bit of her temper because he was rewriting her story and her motivation to put himself in the worst possible light.

"Well, I wouldn't really know what it _was_ like, now would I? I only know what I saw, and what I was told."

She took a deep breath. They were going around in circles, once again, and they weren't getting anywhere. "Rick, I need you to just be quiet and listen to me. Okay?"

"You need? Yes, I'm sure _you need_ it. It's always about your needs, isn't it?"

She took another deep breath. If it kept up this way, pretty soon she was going to hyperventilate just from taking deep breaths to try to calm herself down. "Well, right now, I think we _both_ need this. I need to tell it, and you need to hear it."

"I would have loved to have heard it ten months ago. Or even six months ago. Hell, even two months ago would have been better."

She ignored his jabs and forged on with her story, not really waiting for a response from him because she knew in his state of mind, she'd just get more sarcasm and hurt pouring out of him. "I woke up and the doctors started telling me what had happened. And as I came to more, I remembered getting shot, and...afterward. It was like a continuous movie loop running through my mind, and you were part of that. And right at first, it was something to hold onto, something..._good_ to think about... But then I was drifting in and out, and I remembered our argument, when I told you to get out of my apartment. I asked you point blank how you felt then, and you just said you were my friend and partner, with no inkling toward what you told me in the cemetery. And I just kept thinking about those two things, and how different they were, how inconsistent."

She let her words trail off and she was silent as she let the implication sink in. When he heard that, he tilted his head just a bit and pursed his lips. "What...you thought I wasn't serious?" he asked finally.

"I didn't know what to think. For a while, I could only focus on things for a few seconds at a time, because of the shock and the pain and the drugs, so I just kept thinking about those two things...the argument and after I was shot. Little snippets. But I didn't know...I didn't know what to think...about the two of them. And as I got more lucid, I got...I got scared." She seemed ashamed to admit the word in relation to describing herself with it.

"Scared of what?"

"Of...me. Of what was going on with...being shot." She swallowed and her voice got lower than it already was. "Of...your words, and..." She trailed off, but she made no move to go on.

"And what?" he prompted finally.

On another deep sigh, she eventually admitted, "The cemetery...I'd just been shot. You thought I was going to die. You said that much. So I had to..." She stopped briefly again. But then she made herself voice the thought, even though it was still sort of a veiled comment, like a lot of their conversation seemed to be. "It made me wonder which of the two was the true statement...the argument or the cemetery."

But veiled or not, the implication was clear: she worried that he'd said what he'd said only because she'd just been shot and was bleeding out all over the beautiful spring grass. That he hadn't really meant those words that he'd spoken so long ago. He looked like he was about to say something, so she jumped up and forged on ahead, starting to pace in front of him, having more of her story to tell and not wanting to listen to him until she'd gotten it all out. "And then with everything else-the shooting and the recovery and all of that-I just didn't know how to navigate all of that. And somewhere in there, I thought that if you didn't...if what you said in my apartment was more...true, then it would probably be more comfortable for everyone if I just pretended for a little while that I couldn't remember the other...stuff."

Inside, he was affected by her words, but he was still hurting too much by her actions to let that show. She was worried that he didn't mean it? Well, then did that mean that it _mattered_ to her if he meant it...that she _wanted_ him to mean it? But he couldn't think about that now, so he squashed it down and brought up the crux of the whole issue, what had gotten them to this point in the first place: her lie. "So you consciously made a decision to lie to me?"

"Yes, dammit! But I was scared! I know that's no excuse, but I thought if you really did feel...like you said, then you'd say it again sometime, and I wouldn't have to wonder." Or worry that it wasn't true, she added to herself silently.

"But how could I say it again when you didn't give me the chance? I had approximately two minutes with you before you told me to get out of your room, and to not call you. And then you dropped off the face of the earth for four months. So how was I supposed to say it again when you asked me to stay away?"

"It was never supposed to be that long."

"Well then how long was it supposed to be? How long did you _intend_ to lie to me?" Once again, she almost flinched at his words, but they were true. She did lie to him, and it wasn't just an off-the-cuff, spontaneous, little white lie. It was bigger, and-she hated to admit it-calculated. Premeditated. And despite her apologies, despite the fact that she was coming clean with him, thinking of it like that made her feel just that much worse about what she'd done.

But she still needed to answer his question. Truthfully, she told him, "I don't know...until I got out of the hospital? I don't know. I just knew that when I was worried that you only said what you said because of the shock of seeing me shot and bleeding, then I couldn't have you hanging around the hospital with me while I was so...weak. I'm nobody's pity case. And I know you would have been there."

"Damn straight I would have been there," he said quickly, resolutely, affirming his devotion to her before he could even think about the words that escaped his mouth. Her eyes displayed her shock at his quick, unconscious show of support for her even when he seemed so outraged with her, and he clamped his lips together and looked away, as if embarrassed to have said it at all.

The words hung in the air for a bit, and she closed her eyes. Unbidden, the images popped into her mind, images of him sitting by her bedside, day after day, helping her to get better. She knew he would have been there, and he'd just confirmed it. Now, those images were comforting, but they were bittersweet because she'd given that opportunity away. But then, the mere possibility of him being there, after what she heard, frightened her. She knew, even then, even through her haze of pain medication and endless monitoring, that having him there through that, in the hospital with her wouldn't be a good thing, long-term. She wasn't in a place where she could handle it, and she knew she would have screwed something up. And of course-

"But I suppose that would have been uncomfortable, what with your boyfriend and everything," he said, his sarcasm from earlier resurrecting itself again, as he basically read her mind, knowing that she was thinking about the same thing...how difficult it would have been if he had been hanging around so much when she also had Josh.

"Josh had very little to do with it," she spat back right away.

"But you didn't have a problem with _him_ being there."

"God, Castle, he was my boyfriend! What was I supposed to do?" And then, although it wasn't voiced, they both heard what her next words would have been: _'Kick him out?'_

Like she did to Castle.

Castle, her partner, her friend, her champion...the man who'd just, before that, confessed his love for her.

And she'd kicked him out, out of her life for four months.

She walked back over to the couch and slumped down, leaning over, elbows on her knees, head in her hand. "I'm sorry, Castle," she said again, into her hands. But then she raised her head up and turned to look at him. "I was just trying not to screw things up, and I ended up doing it anyway. I'm sorry."

He could see she was sincere. He could see she was torn up about it. It didn't really take away his hurt or make him feel any better, but in some part of him he really couldn't define, it did help a marginal amount to see that she was affected by the hurt that she had caused him with her silence.

But despite that, he really didn't know a whole lot more than he did before she knocked on his door. Sure, he knew a bit more about her motivations, and what she was thinking in the immediate aftermath of her shooting, but he didn't really know how she _felt_, then or now. He had to know; he figured that after all of this, she owed him that. And he figured it was time to find out.

"Why are you here, Kate?" he asked bluntly.

She looked at him, confusion evident on her face. "What do you mean? I...did something awful to you, and I'm trying to apologize."

"You did that two nights ago, when you came clean with me. And you did it just now, several times. So I guess you're absolved of your guilt." He paused, his eyes boring holes in her. "So that should be it, right?"

'It?' What did he mean by that? She was trying to make sense of what he said, when it hit her. _He was saying...goodbye?_ No, that couldn't be it. But then as she saw him pull himself up off the couch and stand there, obviously waiting for her to stand up too, she knew she was right. He was expecting her to leave.

He _was_ preparing to say goodbye. She could see it in his eyes.

She started shaking her head at him, her mouth forming a single word. "No." And she stayed where she was on the couch, unable to move, unable to get up. Because standing up was one step closer to her leaving, and she didn't want to do that. She _really_ didn't want to do that.

"No?" he asked, staring down at her. "You've apologized. I can't accept it yet, but I'm sure in time, I'll come to terms with it. But you've done your duty; you've told me the truth and apologized for lying to me. So you can go home and sleep easy tonight."

But she still didn't get up. "I'm not going home, not right now anyway. Come on, Castle," she implored, as if she was wanting him to understand. But he _didn't _understand her anymore.

He shook his head. "No, Kate. You came here even though I told you I needed time, even though I said I would call you when I was ready to talk. You said you came here to apologize. You've apologized. What more is there to say?" And then, deliberately slowly, he repeated the original question, the loaded one, the one that he'd already asked. The one that he wanted-needed-a heartfelt answer to this time, not just some lame bunk about giving him an apology.

"Why did you come here, Kate?"

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><p><em><strong>Push, push. That's what she needs, right?<strong>_

_**Now that you've read it, you should know that how this came out is not how I intended. I just tried to imagine 'my' versions of these characters sitting in a room, and I tried to envision what they would talk about. Some of it didn't even happen until I started typing. As people like to say, I tried to make it seem organic in the way the whole conversation came about. **_

_**But all in all, I'm pretty happy with the way this turned out. (And then whenever I say that, I always worry that other people will think it's about as good as day-old roadkill.) I never intended to make Beckett somewhat (even just a tad) sympathetic, but once I started typing it, that's how she came across to me. And if you think about it, there were two very contrasting themes of feelings, or vibes, coming from him in that finale: the argument where he couldn't say how much she meant to him and it cost him by getting him kicked out, and then the cemetery, where he did finally confess his feelings. But because of the first situation, (in my premise) she couldn't trust the second, especially in that situation. Yes, she definitely was selfish and made mistakes, but right at first, she was very vulnerable and didn't know which was up with Castle. Or even moreso, she didn't have the strength then to face either possibility (that he meant it, or that he didn't).**_

_**I know I danced around the ILY words a lot with 'what you said' and 'your words' and stuff like that, but in my mind, he CAN'T let himself say them again yet. He's hurt and he feels like a fool. And he doesn't know how she feels yet. On her side, I know she hasn't told him what I think all of you want her to tell him, but I think admitting it, out loud, for her is major. First she has to get through the lying thing and regain his trust, and I don't know that he'd believe her if she said it right away to him anyway after keeping him in the dark for so long about her memories. So, basically, they're both still hiding, because they're both still afraid. These people have danced around each other for four seasons, not saying what they really feel, so I (personally) think that when everything comes out, it's going to be a slow progression of coming clean with little things that eventually regain each other's trust. That will, in turn, lead them to be more blatantly open about their true feelings.**_

_**So since today is my birthday, nice reviews would make really nice birthday presents. ;-) I already saw the sneak peeks for Monday's episode that I'm sure they released just for me ;) , but still, comments would be much appreciated.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**I've discovered, through writing this story and especially this chapter, that the complexity of feelings and of situations that contributed to this whole mess is enormous. I've gone in oodles of different directions with this. There are so many little intricate details, feelings, and moments involved that it's actually really difficult to cover them and explore them as far as I want. I wonder, with the limited broadcast time they have to devote to things, how they're going to address and resolve this in the real show. '47 seconds' should be awesome!**_

_**I'm continuing to get a lot of new story alerts for this story, so I'm glad you like it! And many thanks to all of those who sent me good birthday wishes, along with your nice comments about the chapter...very much appreciated. :)**_

_**Disclaimer: If I owned them, this would already be a done deal and in the editing room.**_

_**Here's chapter 5!**_

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><p><em>Previously: But she still didn't get up. "I'm not going home, not right now anyway. Come on, Castle," she implored, as if she was wanting him to understand. But he didn't understand her anymore.<em>

_He shook his head. "No, Kate. You came here even though I told you I needed time, even though I said I would call you when I was ready to talk. You said you came here to apologize. You've apologized. What more is there to say?" And then, deliberately slowly, he repeated the original question, the loaded one, the one that he'd already asked. The one that he wanted-needed-a heartfelt answer to this time, not just some lame bunk about giving him an apology._

_"Why did you come here, Kate?"_

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><p>She stared at him and he stared back, as intensely as if their eyes were locked together by an invisible string. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Looked down. Looked up. Finally, she spoke.<p>

"You're mad at me."

He cocked his head. "And you think I shouldn't be? I hate sounding like a teenager, but seriously? I just found out that I told you something so intensely personal that I've only ever said it to three other people that I've not already been related to, and you chose to just blow it off and disregard it. _For ten months._ Ten months, Kate!" His voice didn't get any louder, but it was almost as if he was yelling, because his words seemed as if they were made of steel. "And you know, that doesn't really answer the question, anyway."

"I told you what was going through my mind then!" she tried to defend herself, and at the same time very deftly still ignored his question.

"You told me what was going through your mind right after you were shot. You didn't offer any insight as to why you then dropped off the face of the earth for four Goddamn months!" Now his voice was more than steely. After his mini outburst, he looked down a the floor and clenched his hands into fists as if to make sure he got some control back before he spoke again. "It was one thing when you said you didn't remember what I told you in the cemetery. But now? Ten months later? My God, didn't what I said mean _anything_ to you?"

She stared at him, her mouth dropping open a bit in surprise before she said, "Of course it meant something! You know that. I told you that it did," she finished, shaking her head as if to refute what he was implying. How could he think that? How could he possibly think that what he said meant nothing to her?

"Well, apparently your definition of 'meant something' is vastly different than mine then." His voice had reverted back to the sarcastic tone. "If this is how you act when something 'means something' to you," he told her, doing air quotes around the key words, "then I'd hate to think what you'd do if it meant nothing."

This was going so wrong, Kate thought. So incredibly wrong. "Castle..."

"What?" There was a lot of challenge from him in that simple response, that one word, telling her that the next thing she said had better not be another evasion. He was sick of them. She'd been evading and outright lying to him for ten months, and he couldn't handle it anymore.

She'd never seen Castle this way, aside from the time that they had their big fight and she all but threw him out of her apartment then. He was always accommodating, and he always backed down. He might be annoying at times, but he always ended up deferring to her, sooner or later. And even during that fight last May, when he tried the straight talk with her, he still backed down when she pressed him about his feelings, and he left when she told him to get out. In one of those brief flashes when one's mind whirls around at a mile a minute, Kate realized that right now, the tables were opposite of what they were last May. Then, she was mad at him, and he gave her what ultimately seemed to be an evasive answer to the question of how he felt about her. And then she told him to leave. Here, now, he was pressing her for her feelings, and he was right-she wasn't answering the question. But despite what she'd told Dr. Burke, it was hard. It was so hard, especially now, after she admitted her lie. It was one thing to admit her feelings for Rick, but quite another to admit those feelings when she knew she'd hurt him like this. She was now dealing with a Richard Castle that she didn't know, and that was the problem: she didn't know _how_ to deal with this version of him.

He stood there and looked at her for several very long seconds, waiting, and she just looked back as her mind processed what was happening, not saying anything. Finally, he threw up his hands in frustration. "Look, we're really not getting anywhere. I'm not really sure why you came here, and you won't tell me, aside from some lame excuse about wanting to apologize, which you've already done. So let's just stop wasting time, okay? And you probably have to get back to work or something, right? So you just-"

"Castle, no. I'm not leaving when things are like this!" She took a breath. "Castle..." she started, but she didn't know where to go. Her mind was still fixated on the parallels between this argument and that other one last May. And while before, only his body language suggested that she leave, he had now been about to tell her to get out of his home.

And she couldn't let that happen. Not now. Not yet.

He stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn't, when she just shook her head slowly from side to side and raised her tear-filled eyes to the ceiling, he told her, "You know, you've been saying my name a lot and then just waiting. That doesn't really cut it, you know? So if you have something to say, I wish you'd just say it or put us both out of our misery and leave."

"I'm not leaving," she repeated resolutely.

"Well, what's the point of you staying? You won't talk to me, not straight talk anyway. And I've had enough of lies and evasions for quite a while, thanks," he told her, stalking toward the bookcase. He turned around after a few seconds. "You know that wall that you talked about? When you found me at the book signing, and we went to that playground? You said you'd built up a wall. I told you we'd break it down, and it wouldn't be there forever." He took a breath, and she made herself look at him, straight into his eyes, and it was then that she saw the tears in his own eyes. She'd thought she couldn't feel any worse about what she'd done to him with her lie, but she did when she saw those tears in his eyes.

His voice was softer when he spoke next, almost like a caress, but it had such a melancholy note of regret in it that she could hear the anguish that he was feeling. Not just the anger, but the pain too. "I thought we _were_ breaking it down, Kate. I thought that wall of yours was crumbling. Lately...I thought we..." he trailed off, shaking his head while not finishing his thought. Before he spoke again, he took a deep breath and put some of the steely will back in his voice. "But I can see now that your wall was stronger than I ever thought. It's a damn fortress stronger than that CIA building we were in. And I think my...my wrecking ball is broken."

And with that, he pushed away from the bookcase. "I don't know what you expect me to do, Kate. I don't know why you came here. I don't know what you want." He shrugged helplessly, showing how beaten he was over this situation.

Once again, they just stared at each other. But after several seconds of holding that stare, he turned and started walking toward his bedroom. "I want you to leave now," he said over his shoulder.

When she saw the look in his eyes, her heart fell for about the hundredth time since she walked into his loft. She knew she was wrong to lie to him, but she honestly felt she was justified all of those many months ago. She knew she needed the time alone, without him there, to get her head on straight; she needed to try to work through her shooting, Montgomery's betrayal and confession, and Castle's declaration in her own mind. But she also knew she was supremely guilty for, like he said, perpetuating the lie. She could see now, though, looking at him, what her actions had done to him. She wasn't proud of that, and if she could turn back time and do it all over again differently, she would.

But she couldn't. She could only change the present, and hopefully by doing that, the future.

She did it before she could stop to think about it, or analyze it. He was almost to the door of his bedroom when she said simply, "You."

He stopped, as she hoped he would. He turned around just a little bit, just enough to look back at her. "What?" he asked, confused.

She spit it out quickly, lest she lose her nerve. "You said you don't know what I want. I answered you," she told him. "I want _you_."

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><p><em><strong>Hope you enjoyed it. If you happen to find any typos, as always, please feel free to send me a PM so I can correct them. Sorry for the typo in the last chapter, but I found it and it's fixed now.<strong>_

_**Thoughts?**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thanks for the great reviews! The response to this story is pretty positive, and that gives me a warm fuzzy. I have to give a shout-out to the review that made me chuckle...lv2bnsb1 said, "God she's emotionally constipated! "You". Really? And she thinks THAT'S going to turn on the unicorns and double rainbows? Castle needs more than that. He needs words - real words, and a lot of them. She needs to do some self interegation here!" LOVED the 'emotionally constipated' (although the image it evokes...hmmm) and the unicorns and double rainbows comment. But yeah, that about summed it up. She IS emotionally constipated, at least my Kate is. And I'm glad I'm getting that across in what I'm writing.**_

_**I've done it, finally...I now have a tumblr account. It's at xxGoogiexx dot tumblr dot com (Someone already had just 'Googie'...go figure. So I used my twitter handle). I don't have very much up there yet, but stop by and say 'Hi!'. In the future, I thought it might be fun to post sneak peeks of upcoming chapters. Do people do stuff like that? **_

_**After watching the 47 seconds, I have to say that their way makes for better drama, but I like my way (that she knows that he knows) because then at least she can try to fix it, and they can hash it out. On the show, she doesn't even know yet that she has to try to fix things; she has no idea she needs to start groveling, post haste. How maddening! And seriously, we kind of know that this whole thing with the outing of the secrets is going to be a several episode arc, so the three week break after 'The Limey' is going to be a killer!**_

_**Disclaimer: been there, done that.**_

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><p><em>Previously: And with that, he pushed away from the bookcase. "I don't know what you expect me to do, Kate. I don't know why you came here. I don't know what you want." He shrugged helplessly, showing how beaten he was over this situation.<em>

_Once again, they just stared at each other. But after several seconds of holding that stare, he turned and started walking toward his bedroom. "I want you to leave now," he said over his shoulder._

_When she saw the look in his eyes, her heart fell for about the hundredth time since she walked into his loft. She knew she was wrong to lie to him, but she honestly felt she was justified all of those many months ago. She knew she needed the time alone, without him there, to get her head on straight; she needed to try to work through her shooting, Montgomery's betrayal and confession, and Castle's declaration in her own mind. But she also knew she was supremely guilty for, like he said, perpetuating the lie. She could see now, though, looking at him, what her actions had done to him. She wasn't proud of that, and if she could turn back time and do it all over again differently, she would._

_But she couldn't. She could only change the present, and hopefully by doing that, the future._

_She did it before she could stop to think about it, or analyze it. He was almost to the door of his bedroom when she said simply, "You."_

_He stopped, as she hoped he would. He turned around just a little bit, just enough to look back at her. "What?" he asked, confused._

_She spit it out quickly, lest she lose her nerve. "You said you don't know what I want. I answered you," she told him. "I want _you_."_

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><p>He looked at her for a long moment. "Me." It wasn't a question; it was a statement, and he sounded almost mocking, like he didn't believe her.<p>

She took a few steps toward him. She looked down nervously as she clenched her hands together. When she looked back up at him, she said, "Yes." After biting her bottom lip for a split second, she said, "You."

"Really." Once again, it wasn't a question, but a statement, with that same mocking tone.

"Yes, _really,_" she emphasized.

"You sure have a funny way of showing it." He paused and looked down, as if deciding if he wanted to ask the next question. Finally, he looked up, his eyes just as steely cold as they had been this whole time. "Okay, I'll bite. How?"

"How what?"

"How do you supposedly want me?"

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds before she said, "Like you used to be, before I screwed things up." Then, unexpectedly, she threw her hands in the air and looked up at his ceiling. "You know the bitch of it?" She looked back at him, squarely in the eye. She noticed, in some part of her, that he'd turned around a bit more; he didn't look like he was about to run into his bedroom at any second just to get away from her. "I didn't want to screw things up, so that's why I told you I didn't remember. Well, it was one reason, anyway. I thought with the way I was then, I'd just end up ruining it if we tried to... I was just trying to fix myself, before we...before...I..."

While she'd finally said something of substance, once it got a bit personal, a bit uncomfortable for her, she shut down again. She stuttered over the words, catching herself out of instinct before she said too much.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Before we...?" he prompted, needing more from her.

Straight talk, she thought. He needed straight talk...he'd said that. And she owed him that. But she was still so scared that he didn't...that what he'd said all of those months ago wasn't... It was so hard to finish even the thought privately in her own brain. How was she ever going to put it into words?

She swallowed and glanced down at the floor, a part of her wondering if it could just swallow her up. Sure, that would be good. But she needed to say something to prove to him...to make it clear to him that he wasn't a fool like he thought he was. She owed him that. But she felt like she might be a fool if she said any more, when he hadn't given any indication of how he felt about her _now_, other than being mad at her. She closed her eyes and her voice was almost a whisper when she spoke the words that seemed like the biggest limb she'd ever crawled out on in her life.

"Before we tried to see if we could have a relationship."

Her eyes were still closed and she could feel a couple of tears overflow from under her closed eyelids. She waited, but he didn't say anything. It seemed like the butterflies in her stomach had grown to the size of ravens. After a bit, she couldn't stand the suspense any longer so she opened her eyes and looked at him. And she was surprised by what she saw.

She'd just bared herself, had just admitted something that she'd never before admitted to him...that she was thinking of him in more than just a cop/shadow or partner way. But his face showed...no change. The hard line of his jaw was set just as it had been before, and he was just staring at her...waiting, it seemed. Waiting for what?

"Castle?"

"What?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

He nodded. But then he surprised her more when he said, "Define 'we'."

"We? In what I said?" She almost felt like laughing. "Duh, Castle. 'We' is you and me."

"Okay. Just checking." He nodded and looked thoughtful. "And could you define your version of 'relationship'? Just so I get it straight, of course."

"Relationship? God, Castle, do I look like Webster?" She swiped at her teary eyes as he cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, a silent prompt for her to answer the question. "Fine. Relationship...uh, we-as we've determined, that would be you and me-we'd uh, date, I guess." Her discomfort at talking about this was palpable. "You know, spend time together...outside of the precinct. And, uh, do romantic...things." She just could _not_ go on past that. She felt, right now, as uncomfortable as she'd feel if she were having a clinical discussion of a sexual act with her father. This was Castle, and she'd known him for a while. They'd bantered with steamier innuendo over the years. But they just weren't in that same place right now, and they were entering new territory, both with hurts and baggage. And a lot of misunderstandings and mistrust were there between them now and those had to be cleared up or worked through before they could get back to that place where banter and innuendo felt comfortable again.

He nodded again thoughtfully. "So in the hospital, you thought that you'd lie to me...about hearing that I loved you...because you _wanted _to have a relationship with me at some indeterminate time in the future." It wasn't really a question; he was simply stating his interpretation.

Two things hit her when she heard his words: first and overall, that his logic-or the logic that he was attributing to her-sounded utterly ridiculous. But second, she heard and fixated on the words in the middle of his sentence. '...that I loved you.' It had been so long since she'd heard those words from him, and even now, in the midst of this train wreck of a conversaton, she still felt a little thrill at hearing him speak them again. But then a thought entered her brain...he'd used the past tense. _Loved._ She couldn't think about that now, though, because he was standing there, and he was waiting for an answer. But before she could answer, he went on. "That's really warped, Beckett. And not only that, but what about Doctor Motorcycle Boy? How did he fit into this whole thought process of yours?"

So many questions. Loaded questions. But even as she was dreading answering them, she knew that answering them was step one on the way toward trying to fix this. "Yes, Castle, when you put it like that, it does sound warped. But you know...I've told you...that wasn't how it was. I wasn't really sure about what you wanted. And if you really wanted... If we were going to do this...us...I knew that with the mental state I was in at the time, I couldn't give you what you needed."

He held his hands out, palms up, in an air of subtle resignation. "All I would have needed, Kate...was you. Any way that I could get you, as long as you were alive."

And with those statements, she was forced to face, once again, what she'd done. And the way he spoke the words-low, sincere, and just a little bit heartbreaking-cut into her, and she almost physically felt the pain of what she was missing. What she could be having, with him.

"God, I'm sorry." She shook her head again, and then gave up and walked over to his couch, where she slumped down again. "I just didn't know then...how you felt. I didn't know if you really meant it." She leaned forward and laid her head in her hands.

"And Josh?" He still couldn't keep the derision out of his tone, sounding much like he did when he'd asked about her old boyfriend when she'd surprised him after the book signing.

Ah, now the other difficult question. "I broke up with Josh the day before I was discharged." She'd never told Rick that, because the topic of Josh had never come up again after that talk in the playground. And, well, she did remember what Rick had said, even though she didn't admit it, and as time went on, there just wasn't a good way to bring up what had happened with Josh. How did you casually bring up the circumstances of an important past breakup with the person that you might like to try to have a future relationship with someday?

She looked back up at him then, and for the first time, she saw something different on his face, in his eyes. He tried to cover it up, but he couldn't cover all of it quickly enough. He was surprised. And if he was surprised, she'd take it. Surprised was better than hurt, and it was better than angry. So, taking advantage of that, she cautiously forged on, trying to be honest with him. She was honest with him in the park, on the swings so many months ago, but she wasn't as forthright as she could have been. "Josh and I...we weren't going anywhere, I knew that. I knew that probably before I was shot. Before we had our argument in my apartment. That's why..."

He saw she was at odds with whatever she'd been about to say, but he needed to hear it. She was finally talking, pretty honestly, it seemed, without him having to poke and prod and almost kick her out of his home. And now that they were finally getting somewhere, he needed-_they_ needed-her to keep talking. But she didn't continue, so he finally resorted to prompting her once more. "Why what, Kate?"

She looked back at him with big eyes. "That's why it was like a slap in the face when you said what you said in my apartment."

"When I asked you to walk away from the investigation?" he guessed.

She shook her head. "No. When you called me your friend and your partner. And that was...it." She said it in almost a whisper, like she was afraid to admit it out loud. "I knew Josh and I were all but done, and I couldn't justify staying with him when..." She bit her lip after she stopped talking.

He stood there looking at her, once again waiting for her to finish her thought. It seemed like he spent half of their conversation trying to drag information out of her when she would just stop, mid-thought, seemingly unsure of how to go on. But now, she was finally giving him information about Josh. And even though it was probably none of his business, he wanted to know. Because back last spring, Josh was exactly where Rick, himself, wanted to be: with Kate. With Kate as more than friends. And when Kate had sent him away, and had kept him away, he could only imagine her being with Josh. He'd always been pretty good at keeping his disdain hidden before the shooting, but it had crept out again after Kate had found him at the book signing. And it was still something he'd wondered about, even all of these months later. What had happened with them? Why did they break up, especially if she didn't remember what Rick had said in the cemetery?

But even though he was sick of having to drag information out of her, he had to know. "When what?"

She looked up at him, caution in her eyes. "When I knew I had feelings for you."

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><p><em><strong>So...hope you liked it. Please let me know what you thought. I still have a good number of people who story alert this story and that's it; please, if you like it enough to story alert it, then let me know what you like about it, either in a PM or a review. I even got my first French review recently...how cool is that? (Merci, Sara003!) <strong>_

_**This has turned out to be longer than I thought it would, but the response has been really wonderful. I know now how I want to end it, and it will be...good. I think you'll really like it. That's all I'll say now.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**I hate to sound like a broken record with all of my initial author's notes, but I do want to thank all of those who reviewed the last chapter, especially those of you who have left more than one along the way. I really do enjoy hearing what you think of this, and some of you-Mark C, Docner89, Steve1961 and especially ebfiddler-went into a lot of detail, and it's wonderful to know that what I wrote made you think and feel all of that. Thanks so much to all of you!**_

_**Now, this chapter went in a different direction than what I'd originally intended. It surprised me, and I hope it surprises you in a good way (I posted a little spoiler about this yesterday on my shiny new tumblr page: xxGoogie dot tumblr dot com). But I have to say that I love the new direction. I think it meshes really well with the story and the character development.**_

_**Disclaimer: If I owned any of them, you wouldn't be reading this.**_

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><p><em>Previously: She looked back at him with big eyes. "That's why it was like a slap in the face when you said what you said in my apartment."<em>

_"When I asked you to walk away from the investigation?" he guessed._

_She shook her head. "No. When you called me your friend and your partner. And that was...it." She said it in almost a whisper, like she was afraid to admit it out loud. "I knew Josh and I were all but done, and I couldn't justify staying with him when..." She bit her lip after she stopped talking._

_He stood there looking at her, once again waiting for her to finish her thought. It seemed like he spent half of their conversation trying to drag information out of her when she would just stop, mid-thought, seemingly unsure of how to go on. But now, she was finally giving him information about Josh. And even though it was probably none of his business, he wanted to know. Because back last spring, Josh was exactly where Rick, himself, wanted to be: with Kate. With Kate as more than friends. And when Kate had sent him away, and had kept him away, he could only imagine her being with Josh. He'd always been pretty good at keeping his disdain hidden before the shooting, but it had crept out again after Kate had found him at the book signing. And it was still something he'd wondered about, even all of these months later. What had happened with them? Why did they break up, especially if she didn't remember what Rick had said in the cemetery?_

_But even though he was sick of having to drag information out of her, he had to know. "When what?"_

_She looked up at him, caution in her eyes. "When I knew I had feelings for you."_

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><p>Those words had been festering inside of her for a long time, like a wound that wasn't receiving proper care. It was funny how she still had the scar from the wound in her chest, and while that had received proper care that spring day, the other wound that had been created that day had never received the care it should have received. It had just received the band-aid of silence, of denial. Of course, that invisible, emotional wound had actually been created a few days later when she'd lied to Castle, but she supposed that the precursor to that was indeed on that May day, when Castle had been brave enough-or maybe scared enough-to utter the words that would irrevocably change their relationship forever.<p>

She felt an almost physical pain at saying those words out loud after having held onto them inside, in silence, for so long, but at the same time, it was almost a relief to get them out. It was forcing her hand, she knew that. She _felt_ that. There was no turning back now. But even though she may not like to admit it, she knew that she needed that hand to be forced. She'd been sitting in silence too long, keeping her secret. Now it was time. And now it was out.

After digesting the fact that she'd actually spoken the words out loud, she finally dared a look at Rick.

He was standing there where he had been, on the way to his bedroom from when he almost kicked her out. He held her eyes for a very long moment, and then he shut them tightly for just as long. He let out a long sigh as he finally moved from that spot, running his hands through his hair as he sat down in one of the chairs. His eyes skittered around the room before finally coming to rest back on her. "Really? Or are you just saying that because you feel guilty about lying to me?"

She gave him a brief nod. "Really." She surprised herself with how strong and confident her voice was when she said that one word. And from the look on his face, she surprised him too.

But after the hurt that he'd felt since she told him, he wasn't quick to believe even though, deep down, he desperately wanted to. At this point, he still needed more confirmation. "We're talking 'more-than-friend', 'more-than-partner' feelings?"

"Yes. Those too, of course, but also more than those."

"How long?"

Oh, what a loaded question, she thought. And she didn't even try to ask for clarification, to try to stall or glean more information. She knew what he meant. Exactly. Because it was a question that she'd asked herself about him, wondered many times during her convalescence when she was apart from him. Aside from the question of if he really meant his declaration of love, her thoughts always segued into if he really did mean it, how long had_ he _felt that way?

Somehow, she knew they would have this conversation at some point, but she just didn't think it would come this soon after telling him that her feelings for him had grown past the partner stage. It scared her, but at the same time, just telling him that long hidden fact that she did indeed _have_ romantic feelings toward him had given her some sense of courage to respond to his question without him having to pry it out of her. Looking directly at him, she told him, "Since right before you left for the summer."

His brows furrowed, and he looked genuinely confused. "But _you_ left," he countered. "You went to your Dad's cabin for the summer. I was here."

"Not _that_ summer."

Her words were soft. But they might have been shouted through a public address system for the effect that they had on him. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open as he sucked in a surprised breath of air when he came to the realization that she meant the summer he went to the Hamptons. _Close to two years ago_.

She just admitted-_voluntarily_-that she'd had feelings for him almost two years ago.

Oh, God.

"Way back then? Why didn't you say something? I...really?" He stopped himself in mid-thought, almost not believing what she was saying. Needing confirmation, because this was almost two wild to believe. Almost two years ago?

She bit her lip, but nodded in sincere confirmation. "Really."

He continued to gape at her for a moment before he leaned back in the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. The mask of anger that he'd held for most of their conversation was totally gone from his face now, replaced by stunned disbelief. She was sure the anger would come back at some point-her lie was a bitter pill to swallow, after all-but for now, she realized that she needed him to know the truth, about everything. And she was finding out that once the courage was summoned and the floodgates were opened, the long-silent truths couldn't help but spill out and through them.

She was silent while he tried to form a coherent thought in the face of what she'd just admitted to him. "Okay. Um...that was not what I expected to hear. That's...uh...okay. So can you tell me why I'm just hearing about this _now_?"

"Because you asked, and I...I'm telling the truth, Castle," she told him, as if needing to reaffirm to him that she was being truthful, that she wasn't holding anything back.

"No, I know I asked just now, but that was just...that was not what I expected you to say," he repeated again, still obviously shocked. "But if you felt...back then..." She could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought back, and remembered. "But I'd asked you to go with me to the Hamptons, and you said no. And then you and Demming..." He looked to her then, the confusion of her claim warring with what he remembered of the situation in his mind, and all of that confusion was evident on his face and in the tone of his voice.

She took a deep breath, because despite her new-found courage in the emotional disclosure department, she still knew that this long-held source of regret and missed opportunities for her would be difficult to admit. Especially to him. "You asked me, and I said no. At first." She saw the question in his eyes and she forged ahead. "That night after you said you were going to leave, I realized a few things. About you, and about me. And I was ready to take a leap." She looked over at him, seeing the quesion in his eyes. But then she had a sudden moment of doubt. "Look, are you sure you really want to get into this? We don't have to..." she stopped talking when she saw him shaking his head.

"No, tell me. If there's something that I don't know, and it sounds like there is, then I need to hear what it is. It may be in the past now, but whatever it was obviously played a part in getting us here, so yeah, I want to know. I _need_ to know. And you know, _you_ brought it up, so that says right there that it's still in your mind, somehow."

She didn't speak right away, as she tried to gather up the remaining courage that she'd need to put into words what had happened almost two years ago. She'd never spoken of it with anyone; not Lanie, certainly not the guys, and because it was so far before her shooting, not Dr. Burke either.

"Tom and I were spending more time together. I...I liked him," she began, and then she saw a flicker in his eyes. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said casually, but she knew that it was anything but. "Go on."

But he didn't want to address it, and she just wanted to get this out, so she ignored his...whatever moment and continued. "After you asked me to go to the Hamptons with you-"

"And you said no," he reminded her.

"And I said no," she parrotted, confirming his recollection, "Esposito said something to me that made me realize that maybe you were waiting for some kind of sign from me. I don't know. And he pointed out that you didn't need to stick around anymore for 'research', and he made me think of why you _were_ sticking around. So I thought that a weekend at your beach house might be a good way to find out."

"But you said no."

"Yes, I did," she confirmed. "Initially." At that word, he cocked his head, waiting for more of an explanation because his memory of those couple of days wasn't meshing with what she was saying. "I broke up with Tom that afternoon, Rick, so I could go to the Hamptons with you. I was going to take you up on your offer." She tried to make her voice confident as she repeated some of the key points.

"But..." His eyes were big again, but then they narrowed. "But you didn't. What happened? Oh..." he said, like he had a sudden moment of clarity. "You had second thoughts"

She shook her head. "No." At his quizzical look, she clarified, "You did."

"I did what?"

"You're the one who had second thoughts."

"Me?" he asked with some level of confusion. "I...what did I do? I..." And then, she could see when he put two and two together. Or rather, when he put one and one together and got him and Gina. He leaned his head back on the chair and closed his eyes. "No," he said in denial, shaking his head. "You weren't really going to..." He left the sentence unfinished, not able to voice the thought that they might have had a chance more than a year ago.

"Yeah, I was. And I almost told you. But, just as I was getting ready to say something, Gina walked in. And when she talked about being on top of you all summer...well...yeah."

"Tell me you're making that up," he implored. The lost chance from so long ago was now staring him in the face, and even though it was so long ago and was dead and gone, he could still feel the regret, the loss of that chance as if had just happened that morning.

She shrugged, trying for casual. "Sorry."

"My God, I...and I was gone all summer." He shook his head from side to side again, almost dejectedly. "And you really had...some kind of...feelings...for me then?"

She gave a little nod. "Something, yeah."

"But...?" he prompted, knowing from her tone that there was more that she wasn't saying.

"But what?" she asked innocently.

He gave her the lowered head, narrowed eye look that he gave her whenever she was giving him grief or knew she was hiding something. "Come on, Kate. I know there's more going around in that head of yours. I know there's more to the story. You said you're being honest now, so spill it."

She hesitated a bit, but then she said, "But it's probably good that I didn't go anyway, because after thinking about it all summer-or hell, even right after you walked away-I knew that it wouldn't have worked out, even if Gina hadn't been there."

"You don't know that," he countered, instinctively trying to defend himself in a hypothetical, past situation when they were different people than the ones they were now. "We could have-"

"Oh, come on, Rick!" she said, standing up and pacing a few steps away. "Now it's your turn to be honest! If I'd have gone with you for that weekend, you would have chewed me up, spit me out and been through who knows how many other women by the end of that summer!"

Once again, he gaped at her, somewhat stunned by her sudden outburst after she'd just been so calm. "You don't know that," he repeated. "And what the hell...chewed...how could you think that?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, it didn't take you very long to find another potential bed warmer after I said no, did it?" she asked sarcastically, angrily. Belatedly, she wondered where the sudden anger came from; that long ago time wasn't even the issue now. But both of their emotions were so raw now that it didn't take a lot for even a little bit of latent, unresolved anger and regret from over a year ago to bubble up and spill over.

"You were with Demming! You were going away with him!" The anger was now back in his voice too. "You turned me down with a lame excuse about no vacation when you _knew_ you were going away with him all the time! So what the hell was the problem with me finding someone else? Someone who actually _wanted_ to be with me?"

"I did! But you blindsided me when you asked me! And I was dating Tom...what was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know...tell me the truth, maybe?"

"I tried to!" she almost shouted. "As soon as I realized...I was going to tell you then but you were gone already that night, so I got my courage up, and that next day I went out on a limb...and God, Rick, do you know how big of a limb that was for me? But I tried to talk to you. Then dammit, _right_ before I was going to spill my guts, your ex-wife saunters in and proceeds to hang all over you!" He'd stood up sometime during their shouting match, and now she faced him defiantly, hands on her hips. "God, when it took you less than twelve hours to find a replacement for me then, is it any wonder why I didn't think you were serious with your 'I love you' last May? For all I knew, once you made sure I wasn't going to die, you'd probably be out the door for the Hamptons again with some other bimbette on your arm!"

After her outburst, the loft was painfully quiet, their ragged breathing the only sound they could hear. The words that she'd shouted, and the picture they painted of him as a shallow, carefree bachelor without any substance or staying power was so clear that it was as if it was being projected on a movie screen right there in the room. He stared her down, the surprise that was on his face just a bit ago now being replaced once again with the mask of hurt and anger that had been there since she'd arrived at his loft and had tried to explain her lie.

"Is that what you _really_ think of me? Even now? Because if it is, Beckett, then, God, I..." He looked down and shook his head a couple of times in stunned disbelief before he looked back up at her. "If it is, then just leave now. Get out. Because we have nothing more to talk about."

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><p><em><strong>And there we leave it, for now. I'll try to get another chapter up before 'The Limey' airs, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to. But I'll try.<strong>_

_**Like I said, this chapter really took a strange turn. But in writing it and rereading it and tweaking it, I think it's all valid and plausible. They've never dealt with the separation that summer, not really. So (I think) it makes sense that those feelings would come back to the forefront when they least expected them to, and that all of those suppressed and unresolved feelings still have an effect on how things are now.**_

_**I hope you all are still with me here. With the wonderful comments that I've gotten about the first six chapters, I'm kind of afraid that I'm really going to blow it sometime. So I hope you still liked this chapter, even though I'm sure it spiked some people's angst-o-meters into the red zone.**_

_**Thoughts?**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**I know my story was AU before (by the way the secret came out), but now, after 'The Limey', it's even more AU. But I hope it's still an enjoyable read, if for no other reason that it's (hopefully) less frustrating to read my version than to watch two people dance around each other, being hurt by invalid assumptons, rather than just sitting the heck down and talking to each other. **_

_**Disclaimer: I'm not in California now and I'm still wondering how the heck they're going to pull this together by the end of the season. Or IF they will. That about sums it up.**_

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><p><em>Previously-The 'Hamptons Summer' and the circumstances surrounding it finally get brought out into the open, and heated words and accusations borne of insecurity are volleyed back and forth:<em>

_"You were with Demming! You were going away with him!" The anger was now back in his voice too. "You turned me down with a lame excuse about no vacation when you knew you were going away with him all the time! So what the hell was the problem with me finding someone else? Someone who actually wanted to be with me?"_

_"I did! But you blindsided me when you asked me! And I was dating Tom...what was I supposed to do?"_

_"Oh, I don't know...tell me the truth, maybe?"_

_"I tried to!" she almost shouted. "As soon as I realized...I was going to tell you then but you were gone already that night, so I got my courage up, and that next day I went out on a limb...and God, Rick, do you know how big of a limb that was for me? But I tried to talk to you. Then dammit, right before I was going to spill my guts, your ex-wife saunters in and proceeds to hang all over you!" He'd stood up sometime during their shouting match, and now she faced him defiantly, hands on her hips. "God, when it took you less than twelve hours to find a replacement for me then, is it any wonder why I didn't think you were serious with your 'I love you' last May? For all I knew, once you made sure I wasn't going to die, you'd probably be out the door for the Hamptons again with some other bimbette on your arm!"_

_After her outburst, the loft was painfully quiet, their ragged breathing the only sound they could hear. The words that she'd shouted, and the picture they painted of him as a shallow, carefree bachelor without any substance or staying power was so clear that it was as if it was being projected on a movie screen right there in the room. He stared her down, the surprise that was on his face just a bit ago now being replaced once again with the mask of hurt and anger that had been there since she'd arrived at his loft and had tried to explain her lie._

_"Is that what you really think of me? Even now? Because if it is, Beckett, then, God, I..." He looked down and shook his head a couple of times in stunned disbelief before he looked back up at her. "If it is, then just leave now. Get out. Because we have nothing more to talk about."_

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><p>She was standing. He was standing. Neither was talking. The hard set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes were back. She'd adopted her defiant, cop-in-charge posture, but the image was destroyed once you caught sight of her eyes, eyes that were glistening with unshed tears. They glared at each other for what seemed like forever.<p>

Castle was the first to look away, when he moved to walk over to his bar. Pulling out a bottle and a glass, he unscrewed the top of the bottle and sloshed some of the amber liquid into the glass. Ignoring her for the moment, he tipped the glass back and drained it. And then he repeated the actions two more times, before taking the bottle and glass with him as he went over to one of the chairs in his living room. He set the bottle and empty glass down heavily on the table in front of him. And only then did he look up and actually acknowledge her presence.

"And exactly _why_ are you still here?" he asked coldly, his voice so frigid that she wouldn't have been surprised to find icicles hanging on word bubbles in the air around them.

This was just more fixing that she'd have to do. She'd never, ever intended to get into the mess of that post-Demming summer with him. He came back then, although unexpectedly, and it did give her some sort of a thrill to arrest him for murder, even though she didn't really think, deep down, that he could have done committed it. But being the tough cop...using that persona gave her a feeling of taking back some of the power over him, some of the power that he'd unknowingly taken away when he left with his ex-wife on his arm..

Leaving her feeling like a fool.

Just like he said he felt after she told him about her lie.

He needed an answer, though, and it was an important question that he'd just asked. She hoped that he was bluffing, or calling her bluff. But whatever it was, she wasn't going to leave. So maybe _she_ was going to call _his _bluff.

"I told you before...I'm not leaving."

"What's the point of staying, if you really think that I'm _that_ much of a...a womanizing jackass?"

"I don't think that."

"You just said you did."

She ran her hands through her hair now. "No, I didn't, not really. I was...angry, remembering that whole thing. That day, the guys were watching us, Captain Montgomery. They had an idea what was happening. And...then you...and Gina." She let out a huff of air as she shook her head and looked towards the ceiling, like people do when remembering something that they wish they could change, but know they can't. "They were watching, and I waited too long and was left standing there alone. Do you know how stupid I felt when you walked away with her?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth and she saw the wry expression on his face, she knew she'd put her foot in her mouth again.

"Yes, Beckett, I think I have a very good idea of how stupid you felt." He didn't have to say that he knew that because it was how stupid he'd felt for the last two days, since she told him about her lie.

What could she say but the obvious? "I'm sorry." Then, "I don't think you're a...womanizing jackass, as you called yourself. Not at all."

He cocked his head to the side. "Could've fooled me." He leaned forward and grabbed the bottle again, obviously getting ready to drown some more of the many sorrows he was feeling right then.

Something about seeing that forced her into action. She sprang forward and covered the couple of steps it took to reach him. Putting her hand on top of the one of his that was holding the bottle, she said pleadingly, "No." She bent down so she was squatting next to him, still holding onto his hand, trying to keep him from taking that path.

His eyes met hers, and he was struck by how close she was to him now. He didn't want her to be this close to him. He didn't want her to be looking at him like that, with her doe eyes and parted, beautiful lips. He didn't want her hand to feel so warm and good as it held onto his.

She'd played him for a fool for the better part of a year, and dammit, he was still mad at her.

But she was holding his hand, even though she was just trying to keep him from impairing himself with a bottle of alcohol. She was holding his hand. And despite the fact that the last time she'd held his hand had been right before she'd told him of her secret lie, he had to admit that it felt good, even though he had to squash the deja vu type of feeling.

And the way she held his hand, it was almost as if it was caught in a tug of war between two opposing forces: the lure of the bottle, to help him dull his pain and forget all about this mess of trampled feelings and destroyed dreams; or the lure of her hand, trying to draw him away from the bottle, and promising...what, exactly?

He looked pointedly at where her hand covered his over the bottle, and then he looked back to her face. "Please," she said then, giving his hand a little squeeze, "not that. Not now."

With a slight narrowing of his eyes, he capitulated and took his hand off the bottle. Thinking she would release his hand when he set the bottle back down on the table, he leaned back forcefully in his chair in frustration. But she didn't let go. In fact, not only did she _not_ let go of his hand, she held on, so that when he brought his hand back toward him as he leaned back in the chair, it also served to pull her closer to him.

She wasn't letting go.

His eyes registered his surprise at her closer proximity, at how she still held his hand. At how she was staying, not running, even when she was inadvertently pulled closer to him. But he didn't move. And then she outright stunned him by taking her free hand and cupping his cheek. "Thank you," she told him, giving him just a ghost of a smile to back up her words. And then she hit him with more power in her words, with the conviction in her words, but this time in a different way, hopefully counteracting some of the damage she'd done with what she said earlier. "You're not a womanizing jackass, Rick, I know that." She paused and just looked at him. "You're a lot more than that, and I'm sorry I didn't let you know that sooner," she whispered. "I _am_ sorry."

And if he was stunned before when she touched his face, then he thought his heart would totally and completely stop when she leaned forward and touched her lips to his cheek ever-so-tenderly. She gave him just that one little kiss, though her lips had felt hot like a branding iron on the skin of his cheek. But her lips were gone and the kiss was finished before he could even think about it, or had a chance to savor it.

"I'm sorry," she repeated yet again after she pulled back. "I've made...I've made a lot of mistakes, Castle. I should have been honest with you a lot sooner. I thought it would make things better in the long run, but it was the wrong thing to do. I know that now. But please know that I'm being honest with you now."

He was being taken in, by her words, her tone, her proximity to him. But he was still hurt, and he was still mad. And he couldn't think rationally when she was this close to him, with her hands on him. He knew they needed distance from each other, and only then could they continue to talk. He placed his hands over hers, guiding them off his face and away from him, back into her personal bubble. He gave them back to her, and he saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes when he did that. But he did it anyway, and then he raised up again and walked around the table before turning around to look at her once again.

His voice held a curious tone to it. "So how am I supposed to know which parts of any of this are honest? One minute you infer that I'm a womanizing jackass, incapable of serious feelings, incapable of truthfulness or empathy or even the ability to be serious about a relationship, and the next minute you tell me 'oh, oops, guess you're not', and you start getting cozy with me?" He saw another flash in her eyes as she sat now on the couch, to where she'd moved when he got up. "What am I supposed to believe, Beckett?"

She shook her head, trying to deny what he was saying. He had it so wrong, but she couldn't blame him for wondering, for not giving in to her. She couldn't blame him, but at the same time she wished for her old Castle back, the one who would follow her anywhere without question. "I made a mistake, Castle," she began, echoing her statements from a few minutes before. "And if you go back farther, several of them over the years that we've known each other. I know..." She huffed out a frustrated breath. "I know that a lot of what happened that summer you left...it was my fault for not admitting things sooner. And then I repeated the same mistake, with not telling you about when I was shot. But I'm trying to own up to all of those mistakes now. It's...it's not easy for me, but I'm trying."

He gave her a look that she couldn't really interpret, but he remained silent so she forged ahead.

"The things I said about...that summer...and you...yes, they were things that went through my head at one time or another, way back then. Lately? No. Just...no. Not anymore. But I was hurting after you left then, and my mind went through a thousand scenarios and justifications, just so I didn't feel so damn awful about the whole thing. I called you a lot of names," she said, a bit of a twinkle in her eyes when she admitted that to him. "Regrets really suck, Castle. And I had several months to think about mine. And then you never called."

He finally found something to say after she was silent for a full minute. "You didn't seem that upset about me leaving. And I didn't want to get in the way of you and Demming. You seemed happy with him." He shrugged, and the defeated-looking gesture matched the melancholy-sounding tone in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "God, Castle. You say that you can read me, but I don't know how you _mis_read me quite so badly. When you said you were leaving, that it would be our last case...I..." She looked down.

"You what?" he asked, and wondered if they were going back to the point where he had to pry information out of her.

"I felt like someone punched me. I just...I'd gotten used to you and I guess I just never thought you'd leave. And it just hit me then that...my God...you _were_ leaving. And I didn't know what to do."

He nodded. He didn't say anything about it, because there just wasn't much _to_ say. But then a thought occurred to him. "Hey...you said I never called."

"You didn't call." She looked surprised by his statement, like he was saying that it was all in her imagination or something.

"No, I know I didn't. But you made comments, and the guys...when I came back, and everyone was glaring at me...everyone seemed like they were mad at me. Is that because..."

"You left and didn't call? Yeah. Castle, I _told_ you everyone was watching us that last time when you walked away with Gina. They had an idea of what happened. With, uh, us." She shrugged. "They just had my back."

Somehow, though neither of them realized it right away, they'd somehow morphed into having a reasonably normal conversation, absent of snark, or sarcasm, or anger.

He looked thoughtful. "And I _can_ read you, Beckett," he said, going back to her previous statement. "But you give off so many different, conflicting vibes sometimes that I'm not always sure exactly which of them to read. Sometimes we seem so in tune with each other, and other times..." He paced a bit as she leaned back against the couch, sitting sideways, just watching him do his pacing. Finally he turned around and pinned her with his gaze. "So exactly what vibe should I be reading from you now, Kate?"

He was across the room, and she was sitting there, her arm on the back of the couch, bent at the elbow to prop her head up as she looked at him. But his eyes were intense, even from that distance. She felt like they were laser sharp, boring through her, trying to find the truth, and she knew this wasn't a lighthearted question. It was important. But...was he purposely being dense? Did he not hear everything that she'd just said? Didn't he remember that she'd just kissed him? Yeah, it was a kiss on the cheek, but it still wasn't something that she normally did. "What do you think you're reading from me?"

He shook his head. "No. We-or you-have just determined that I'm bad about that. So tell me, just tell me in plain English what I _should_ be reading from you. Tell me. Straight talk, remember?"

Leave it to him to talk in circles and put it back on her. But dammit, he did have a point. Maybe plain English was what she needed, was what he needed from her.

"I'm sorry," she started simply.

"Nothing wrong with my hearing, Beckett. You've said that several times already. Next?"

She took a deep breath. Because she had so much to tell him, but the next words weren't going to be easy for her, even now.

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><p><em><strong>So much for having another chapter out before 'The Limey,' huh? Sorry. I tried. Really. But this one was kind of difficult; to do the segue from the snark and hurt and anger to genuine adult conversation where they could begin to work things out. I think I could do a lot more snark, hurt and anger because it's probably justified, but I don't want to drag this out TOO long...we all know how frustrating that can be. ;) So I hope the reduction in that was believable.<strong>_

_**After the last chapter, it was wonderful to hear comments from so many new readers, and also to see that others who have been around longer are still enjoying the story! I really hope you enjoyed the latest chapter.**_

_**ETA: If you've stuck around to read this after the publishing glitches with the site, thank you! I tried to publish it a couple of times, and the email notifications went out, but the chapter was lost somewhere in internet limbo land; it's probably being read by the people in Tron land who are stuck too. ;)**_

**_ETA#2: I spend a lot of time driving, and thus listening to music as I drive. And I just have to say that I think the perfect song for the show as everything stands right now is 'Not Over You' by Gavin DeGraw. Listen to it or look up the lyrics. And feel free to let me know if you think I'm off my rocker._**


	9. Chapter 9

_**This chapter seems to fit a more traditional 'Googie style', I think; at least toward the end. I'll leave it at that, so I don't spoil it for you.**_

_**Disclaimer: Own nobody; if I did...well, a lot of things would be different.**_

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><p><em>He shook his head. "No. We-or you-have just determined that I'm bad about that. So tell me, just tell me in plain English what I should be reading from you. Tell me. Straight talk, remember?"<em>

_Leave it to him to talk in circles and put it back on her. But dammit, he did have a point. Maybe plain English was what she needed, was what he needed from her._

_"I'm sorry," she started simply._

_"Nothing wrong with my hearing, Beckett. You've said that several times already. Next?"_

_She took a deep breath. Because she had so much to tell him, but the next words weren't going to be easy for her, even now._

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><p>"I haven't made the best choices when it comes to you, Castle. I know that. But...there's something in me now that just...wants you around." Boy, did that sound lame once it was out of her mouth. She looked uncomfortable as she bit her lip and seemed like she was contemplating, but then she corrected herself. "No, that's not entirely right. You asked me before what I wanted, and I said you. And that's true, but it's not entirely true." She shook her head slightly and seemed to take another fortifying breath. "I don't just want you around, Rick. I need you there. I need <em>you<em>."

After she finished, she huffed out another breath, relieved that she'd admitted it, but at the same time displaying her nervousness at what his response would be. He stared at her, cocking his head to the side just a little bit as if he was trying to analyze her comments. Which, knowing him, of course he was.

"In what capacity?"

Despite the time lag since she'd spoken, she didn't even try to pretend to not know what he meant. But the nerves weren't abating; they were getting stronger. "I...I told you that before. When I said I wanted to...fix myself first, before we could see if we could make...a relationship work."

"Relationship," he parotted, nodding. "That would be the 'date, spend time together and do romantic things' type of thing that you'd mentioned earlier?"

How did he do that? She'd just thrown those words out there a while ago in a fit of uncomfortable nerves, put on the spot as she was. And now as he repeated the words back to her, it seemed that he remembered them verbatim.

There was no going back now though, was there? And as hard as it was to go forward, she knew she didn't want to go back. As if to more solidify the words she was about to say, she got up from the couch, and she walked over to where he was standing. "Yes," she finally said. "That's what I want."

"Now, after all of this time." He stated it matter-of-factly.

How many times did she need to say it to him? Well, by the way he was questioning her, apparently quite a few. "Yes, after all of this time," she repeated. "I want to see if we can do this, Castle. You and me. Like that. I...I think I'm ready. " And through some courage that she didn't think she posessed right then, she finally uttered the words that voiced the worry that had been in the back of her mind the entire time. "If you still want me." Her voice came out softer than she expected for those final words, and it sounded to her like little more than an insecure, scared whisper.

Rick looked at her standing before him, telling him that she wanted a relationship. With him. More than partners. It was something that he'd been waiting to hear come out of her mouth for a few years. Sometimes, he wondered if he'd ever hear it, if they'd ever get to that point. He almost didn't believe that he was hearing it now.

But then reality reared its ugly head, and he remembered the lies, how much her betrayal had hurt. How stupid he felt when she told him about her lie, like she'd been playing him like a fool. He felt a little better about it now that they'd talked-and yes, yelled and argued too-but there was still that knot in his stomach. And he knew that it would probably be there for a long time.

He _wanted_ to believe her. Oh, how he wanted to believe her!

But he was still gun-shy when it came to her. He didn't know if there was any singular incident in his life that had hurt him as much as when she admitted that she'd heard his declaration of love but had chosen not to acknowledge it. He'd always trusted her implicitly, unwaveringly, but she'd abused that trust. He knew she was regretting that now, but at the same time, she consciously chose to do it. She might have had her reasons, and there were probably things that they both could have done differently throughout the course of their partnership that would have led to a different outcome now. But what was done was done, and they had to find a way to get through it.

But did he want her?

Despite the hurt, the feelings of betrayal, her closed off emotions and all of her emotional baggage, he knew he'd only have one answer to that question.

Yes.

Because even after all of that, he was finding that it just wasn't that easy to turn your emotions off like a light.

But he was still worried. She held his heart, and she'd had it for a while. He let her know once that she'd had it, that it had been hers for the taking, but she pretended that she didn't see it lying there at her feet, just waiting for her to pick it up. No, instead she'd stepped over it, and on it, and had continued to keep walking on it, like a rug, never acknowledging that it was even there.

So did he give it to her again? How could he trust that she would care for it any more now than she did before?

"Rick?"

Her voice interruped his ruminations, and he realized that she'd volleyed with her statement about if he still wanted her or not, and now it was his turn to return the volley. His turn to speak. Up until now, he'd made her tell him what her feelings were; he figured she owed him that much after her lie. But now it was his turn to say something meaningful, and put something out there.

"No, I don't want..." he started, trying to figure out a way to convey exactly what was going through his mind. But then he saw her blanch, the color, what little there was, actually drain away from her face. Her mouth dropped open, seemingly in shock over the words that he spoke. Her eyes got big, and then once more he saw them start to glisten as the moisture in them increased. At first he didn't know what had caused such a reaction, but then he remembered her specific statement, followed by his response, and he knew that she'd been so eager for his answer that she'd jumped to conclusions before he'd even been able to finish his thought.

She was standing close enough to him, and though he hesitated for a moment, he reached out and gave her upper arm a quick, awkward rub of reassurance before letting it drop to his side again. "No, no...let me finish," he ordered, and he saw her take a quick, stuttery breath. "I don't want the old you. I don't want the lying, no matter what the reason. I don't want pretenses. I want honest thoughts, honest emotion, and if for some reason you're not sure what that is, then I want to know _that_. We share. We've known each other for too long, we've been through too much together to do this any other way."

She seemed to calm down as he was talking, but she still took a couple of deep breaths like she was trying to will her heart rate to return to normal. Her eyes flitted between his face and what must have been a very interesting spot on his floor. "Okay," she finally said. "I can do honest. I didn't much like the alternative anyway. But the emotion part of it...I'll try. I'll probably have some hiccups, because you of all people know how hard that type of thing is for me. But I _will_ try." Then, more softly, she added, "For you."

"No, Kate, not just for me." He shook his head. "For you too, because you can't really live if you're closed off like that. And for us, if there's going to be an 'us'."

She felt hope flare inside of her when he mentioned the word 'us' like it was a possibility. But he still hadn't answered her...whether he still wanted her. She'd pushed him away, kept him at arm's length, and she knew that he'd had the opportunity to find someone else but he hadn't. She'd always hoped he was waiting for her. Hell, the arrogant part of her just assumed he would wait for her, especially after his declaration in the cemetery. Assuming he was telling the truth then. And that was one thing that she'd never really gotten a definite answer about, not in all of the time that they'd been talking. She'd brought it up, said that she was worried about it, but they'd talked around it, never about it. But maybe now was the time. She spent ten months wondering, and it was one of the things that had affected her enough so she chose to make the decisions that she did. And now, he was talking about truth and honesty. So, she figured, now was the time to get an answer to that ten month old question.

"In my apartment last May...our argument..."

His mind flashed back to that night. _'And what about you, Rick?'_ She'd already referenced that night a couple of times, and he had regrets for how he handled it then, despite the fact that given the circumstances, he didn't know if it would have gone any better with any different type of response from him. "Yes?" he answered, wanting to see exactly where she was going with this.

"I need to know...what you said during our argument...was that true? Or...the cemetery?" She couldn't say the words, and she couldn't ask any more directly. He knew what she meant anyway. She could see by the flash in his eyes that he knew exactly what she meant. But then, she realized that she didn't want to hear any grand declarations, either way, not now. Not until they were on less shaky ground. She clarified, "I don't mean...I don't want you to say anything now. I just want to know once and for all what you felt back then."

"That argument...everything I said was true. I'm sorry I upset you then, but I'm not sorry I said it, and I stand by it." He was talking about how he accused her of hiding behind her mother's murder, but as he saw her shoulders slump ever so slightly when he voice the words, he realized that _she_ was talking about a lot more than what he'd referenced, and he knew he needed to address the other part of her question. "And what I said in the cemetery..." He paused, and shrugged casually, but the casual nature of the gesture was belied by the way he pinned her with his gaze. "That was true too."

Her breath caught in her throat. After ten months of wondering, she had her answer. She didn't have to wonder anymore. She'd always hoped that was the case, but when she was feeling low or was feeling stressed, the doubts surfaced again. And the longer she kept her own secret, the more doubts she had. But now she knew. And it was a good feeling.

"Okay..." she said, and then, though she tried to stop it, she couldn't; the smile just bloomed on her face. "Okay." She looked nervously down at the ground for a second, but then her eyes were drawn to him again.

"Yeah?" He was a little taken aback by that smile, considering what they'd been through that afternoon, emotions running the gamut. But there was Kate Beckett, _smiling_, after he confirmed that he did indeed mean the words that he spoke to her as she lay bleeding from her gunshot wound all of those months ago.

She was smiling. She wasn't running, or denying, or pretending it never happened. She was _smiling_.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "That's...uh..." As she spoke, she must have realized that she was smiling like a lunatic in the midst of an intensely serious and emotional discussion. "Uh..." She schooled her features into a more Beckett-style expression. "That's good, Castle. Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate that," she finished, sounding like a prim and proper nineteenth century schoolteacher.

He regarded her with narrowed eyes as he cocked his head back. "Whoa. Was that a hiccup?"

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"A hiccup. Honest emotion, remember?" he asked, referring to what she'd just said about opening up. "You were smiling like you were a little girl who got her first Betsy Wetsy doll, but then you just turned it off and talked to me like you talked to that crazy cat lady who thought she murdered the fake Arctic Explorer in her mind." He made a face and then tried to mimic her. "'_Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate that._' You call that honest?"

Oh, crap, she did do that. She tried to turn it off. She tried to hide. But she didn't need to do that with him anymore, did she? And she'd promised to try. "I'm sorry." When she heard the words, she cringed. She was saying that so much lately! "I was...uh...happy. That you said that. I'd wondered about it for a long time, so it means a lot to finally know the truth. I'm a...a little bit happy, I guess." She smiled again then, not the face-splitting smile from a few minutes before that, but a genuine smile nonetheless. "So thank you."

She was happy. Okay, then. "You're welcome," he replied graciously. But then, he couldn't resist. "See, now that wasn't so hard, was it?" he chided.

She glared at him. "Oh, shut up, Castle." But then she shrugged. "Honestly? It was a little hard, but I'll work on it." A shadow crossed her face then, and she bit her lip as she was obviously thinking about what to say next. "I...uh...I was happy to hear it, okay? What you said, I mean. That you meant it. You know." She looked at him, but he was just waiting for her to get to the point. "I know we're not better yet."

He nodded. "I'm still mad, Kate. It was a blow to me."

"I know."

"But I know I'm not totally blameless. We've had a lot of things that we both could have done differently. And if we'd been more honest with each other from the start, then maybe we wouldn't be standing here still smarting from everything that's happened this afternoon."

She knew that he spoke the truth. And she really didn't have anything to add, so she simply nodded in agreement. "I know it'll take time, and...please don't take this the wrong way, but no matter how honest I can try to be, I know I'm going to need time to get used to...us. I went too slowly before. But I don't want to make a mistake now by going too fast to try to counteract that. Does that make sense?"

He thought for a moment, but had to admit that what she was saying did make sense. Especially when they were both damaged. Rushing into anything now would just be a recipe for disaster, just a different kind of disaster. He nodded in agreement.

"And I...I like you, Castle. As more than a friend."

He couldn't resist. He just couldn't. "I like you too, Kate. Wanna go steady and you can wear my letter jacket?"

She narrowed her eyes at the typical-Castle turn in the conversation. "Do you even _have_ a letter jacket?"

He smiled a cocky smile at her. "As a matter of fact, I do. Found it in a consignment shop for a costume party once."

She rolled her eyes. "Focus, Castle. I'm trying for serious emotion here." She paused to let that sink in. "I just wanted to say that I know I have feelings for you, but my feelings are all mixed up right now. When I figure them out, you'll be the first to know." She watched him for a reaction. "Is that...all right?" she asked hesitantly.

He thought about it. Saying what she said just then, he realized that he probably believed that a lot more easily than if she'd made declarations of undying love for him. Sure, that would be great, but it if came now, he knew he'd always have doubts about the timing, that she only said it because of their argument. This way was better; the specter of their argument wouldn't be hovering over them forever. So he nodded at her, letting her know that he could handle that.

And with all of the talking they'd done that afternoon, they now just stared at each other, neither knowing exactly what to say.

Finally, Kate took the bull by the horns and asked, "So...uh...we're, um...dating?" Even though they'd been talking around it all day, to hear it now was still in the realm of strange for them.

He looked a little bit stunned too. "Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Okay." She nodded. "So, uh, where do we go from here?"

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><p><em><strong>There it is. Hope you enjoyed it (at least better than the last chapter).<strong>_

_**Once again, I'm on twitter (xxGoogiexx) and now tumblr (xxGoogiexx dot tumblr dot com). Feel free to look me up.**_

_**If you have story alerted this story, I would really appreciate you leaving a review or sending me a PM and telling what you like about the chapter or the story in general. I still get vastly more story alerts than reviews. While I love the people who consistently review the chapters-and please, keep that up; you're great!-I still want to hear from the rest of you to get your viewpoints and critiques too. If you thought enough of it to alert it, then you have a viewpoint, and I'd very much like to hear it. **_

_**If any of you found them uncomfortable in this chapter, that's good! That's how they were supposed to come across. They had their little bubble of some sort of relationship that was in a holding pattern, but that all changed when she revealed her secret/lie. They both had to examine their feelings and that relationship a lot. It affected them. But now that they're coming out the other side, they find that they look at things differently and that they're not the same people, nor do they have the same relationship anymore. They now have a challenge of honesty. It's all brand new territory for them now, and when faced with it and being forced to confront it, they're kind of awkward. And now so much has happened that knowing what the next step is can be scary, and yes, uncomfortable. That's my take on it anyway.**_

_**Lastly, I've gotten a fair number of questions lately about one of my other stories, "Melting Slowly". In a nutshell, after the wonderful response that Blizzard got, it seemed like people weren't into the sequel. I kept writing it, but traffic and response really dropped off over the last couple of chapters that I published and honestly, I got discouraged so I decided to take a break from it. This story came along during that break, and since then, I've been working on "Tell". But since it seems that at least some people do miss "Melting Slowly", I'll work on updating that again soon and see if there's any renewed interest.**_

_**Thank you for reading!**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**I'm back with an update to this story! If you've been reading my other, most recent story, "Just Lock Them in a room and Make Them Talk!", you'll understand a bit of the delay in updating 'Tell'. **_

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><p><em>Previously: "I just wanted to say that I know I have feelings for you, but my feelings are all mixed up right now. When I figure them out, you'll be the first to know." She watched him for a reaction. "Is that...all right?" she asked hesitantly.<em>

_He thought about it. Saying what she said just then, he realized that he probably believed that a lot more easily than if she'd made declarations of undying love for him. Sure, that would be great, but it if came now, he knew he'd always have doubts about the timing, that she only said it because of their argument. This way was better; the specter of their argument wouldn't be hovering over them forever. So he nodded at her, letting her know that he could handle that._

_And with all of the talking they'd done that afternoon, they now just stared at each other, neither knowing exactly what to say._

_Finally, Kate took the bull by the horns and asked, "So...uh...we're, um...dating?" Even though they'd been talking around it all day, to hear it now was still in the realm of strange for them._

_He looked a little bit stunned too. "Uh, yeah. I guess."_

_"Okay." She nodded. "So, uh, where do we go from here?_

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><p>They were both silent for several seconds, staring at each other, until he gave her a very small smile. "You know, I'm not actually sure."<p>

"Really?"

"I'd know what to do with a normal...relationship," he said, testing the waters on that big word that they both tentatively agreed could apply to them now. "But we're anything but normal."

"I guess you're probably right about that," she said, almost nervously. "So what would you do if this were a 'normal' relationship?" she asked, making air quotes with her hands.

He rubbed his chin like he was a professor thinking of a new hypothesis. "Hmmm..." he hummed as he walked around the room a bit, obviously trying to look like he was lost in thought.

She watched him as he walked, as he playacted like the thoughtful professor, and she realized something. The tension in the room, for probably the first time since she'd walked in, was noticably less. He-his posture, his expression-looked lighter. She knew that she felt better, although she was kind of emotionally drained. They'd gotten a lot of their issues out in the open. They weren't solved, but any means, but unless she was reading things wrong, they were on their way and had reached a tentative truce.

A truce. And they were talking about starting a relationship. And they'd reached _a truce_. She mentally rolled her eyes when she thought of what that implied. It seemed wrong. Somehow, those two things just did not seem to go together. A truce indicated that two people were at odds, that there was some form of animosity between them that they'd temporarily agreed to put aside.

While she knew that there were some hurt feelings and some insecurities and even a bit of mistrust between them yet, she hoped that there wasn't animosity. There had been some moments of animosity while they talked through their issues, however fleeting. Everything else could be overcome, with time, but she feared that animosity couldn't.

He was still walking around, and he looked like he was about to say something. But then she realized that she didn't want him to say anything, not yet. She walked over to where he was walking, and she stood in front of him, blocking his path, looking him in the eye. "Rick," she said, intentionally using his first name before she repeated the question. "If we were in a 'normal' relationship, what would you do right now?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He stopped walking around his living room, because he was forced to stop with her coming up right in front of him. He gave her a questioning glance as he tried to read her, but then she asked that question again. He might have been hurt by her confession, by everything that had been aired out today, but he knew that he still had deep feelings for her, and he wasn't immune to her. And despite his all-over-the-map feelings regarding her since she'd confessed about her lie, when she was now talking about a real, honest-to-goodness relationship with him, and was looking at him like that, he knew what he'd have to say to answer her question. When she looked at him like that, there was only one thing he could say. Or think.

What would he do next? Duh. He would kiss her. Preferably for a long time.

But he couldn't just do that. Something inside of him was holding him back, because she wasn't just anyone, and they weren't 'normal', and they'd both been through the wringer this afternoon. Having experienced this verbal flushing of emotions, he had to wonder if they could be 'them' anymore. Could they work together anymore, or banter, or build theory, or help each other? Or was that all gone now, because of everything that had been dredged up and brought out into the open today?

But then again, in a sudden moment of clarity, he realized that _they_ didn't normally kiss anyway. _They_ had never been romantic partners before. So it didn't really matter if they weren't 'them' anymore in other ways, because if they started dating now, then things were bound to change anyway. So what the hell did it matter if he happened to do the 'normal' thing now?

He was still contemplating the kiss question when she said, "Castle?" He saw her brows furrow as she tried to read him.

"What would _you_ do?" he suddenly asked her, trying to delay his answer.

"Me?"

"Yes. If we were normal, what do you think we would do next?"

She chewed on her lip for a moment and then her eyes narrowed as she realized what he'd done. "Hey, that's not fair. I asked you the question to begin with. You can't just put it back on me."

"Darn."

"Come on, Castle," she said. "And remember," she told him in a sassy tone as she took a half-step closer to him, "we're being honest here. Honest emotion, right? No hiding, no pretenses."

She really wanted to know, apparently. And even more than that, the challenge was there, with something else too. Maybe it was the glint in her eye, or maybe it was the way she was pursing her lips together like she was trying not to smile. But that something else that was there was enough to make him accept the challenge that she seemed to be throwng at him now.

"You want honest?" he asked her, giving her an exaggerated eyebrow waggle as he tried to confirm her wishes, while he took a half-step closer to her.

She looked a bit...leery of what he was doing, but her gaze didn't waver. "I think it's only fair," she told him, "that if I'm expected to be fully honest, you need to do the same."

He nodded thoughtfully with his lips pursed, as if thinking about what she'd said. "Honesty. Okay. I can do that." And then he took a deep breath, followed by a full-body shake like runners do while preparing for the start of their races. "Ready or not, here it comes."

And with no more warning, he did what he'd only done in his imagination, save for that one time in the alley over a year ago. He reached forward and, anchoring one hand behind her neck and the other behind her back, pulled her closer to him as he dipped his head and his lips staked their claim on her.

As kisses went, it wasn't overly long or drawn out, but it didn't need to be. This was their first kiss, their first _real_ kiss, because that one in the alley so long ago might as well have not even happened, given how they both ignored it after that, how it never would have happened without the need for distraction, and of course how it had never been repeated. Their first kiss. And they both knew on some level that they should just go slowly and savor it, because even though this first kiss was potentially the first of thousands, this first real kiss could never happen again.

They stood together, and she seemed frozen, yet she didn't pull away. She was surprised, he knew that, although he didn't really know why she was surprised. Hadn't she seen how he looked at her? And really, was it so hard for her to figure out the most basic, obvious thing that you do with someone with whom you've just entered a relationship?

Duh. You kiss each other.

On that thought, he started kissing her more, testing out the waters; moving his lips, slanting his mouth a bit, a few nibbles on her bottom lip. And then, oh miracle, she started responding! If he nibbled, she answered with one of her own. Part of him registered that her hands had somehow found their way around him, and were now lightly holding him to her as they kissed. He could feel how her hands moved up and down his sides lightly.

But they were still in the realm of light kisses. Almost chaste. They were just getting to know each other in this new way and by mutual unspoken consent, they were going slowly.

Or, at least he thought it was mutual. When she pulled away, she looked at him right at first as if she was surprised that he was there. She just stared at him for a couple of very long moments. But then, amidst a couple of deep breaths, her gaze changed to the official, Kate Beckett you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look. "Castle," she started, and then reached out a few fingertips and touched him on his cheek. "Yeah, it really _is_ you. Okay, then."

Not the response he expected, not at all. "Were you expecting someone else?" he asked dryly.

"Yeah, maybe a twelve-year-old?" she answered sarcastically. At his quizzical look, she explained, "I thought we were doing honest emotion. And that kiss was how two middle-schoolers kiss when they sneak away to a dark corner of the school dance to try out kissing someone new. That's...all you feel? _That_ was honest?"

Did she just insult his kissing technique? "Twelve-year-old? Did you just say that I kiss like a twelve-year-old?" His voice was incredulous, delivered with just enough of a pout on his face to make it comical.

"Well, if the shoe fits... So was that honest? Is that how you'll keep kissing me? You know, if we do this...this dating thing?" She saw the look on his face, now somewhat indignant over her implication.

"I was trying to go slowly!" he argued, defending himself.

"Well, yeah, I guess you did that," she agreed, giving a slight eye roll.

"I can't believe this!" he said as he stared at her. "And what about you? You were kissing me back the same way! So who do you think you are to critique my...my technique?"

"Answer the question, Castle," she instructed with a raised eyebrow.

It took him a moment to remember what the question was. "Is that how..." he started, letting the question trail off as remembered back to what she said. "You want honest? Fully honest, from me, right now?"

"That was your stipulaton, wasn't it?"

Oh, that little... he didn't finish the thought, but he knew he could have finished it with any one of a number of different nouns. But that took too much time. And he had to teach her a lesson, and that lesson was that when it came to kissing, Rick Castle did _not_ kiss like a twelve-year-old.

His lips were on hers again before she could even take another breath. She knew she pushed him, but she meant to do that. Or perhaps more specifically, she felt compelled to do that. She'd realized halfway through their first kiss that she wanted more. She'd expected more when the time came, because she somehow knew that time would inevitably come at some point. And since he _was_ finally kissing her, since they finally _had_ taken that step, she wanted him to _really_ kiss her, not hold back. They came out on the other side of her lie, not unscathed, but still alive and still willing to try for something together, and she wanted to embrace that.

But he seemed so hesitant during the kiss that her internal manual for dealing with Castle kicked in, and she pushed him.

And now..._now_ he was kissing her.

Success.

And now her knees were going weak.

He wasn't giving her little kisses anymore. Nope. Now he was pressing against her, holdng her to him, leaving her no room for her to escape.

Not that she wanted to escape.

Her hands stole up around his neck as his mouth fused with hers. Her mouth went lax, opening for him as he devoured her. She heard him groan from deep inside, and she felt a jolt the first time his tongue touched hers. And once they both felt that, there was no turning back. It had been too long in coming, the feelings too long denied. They could only think one thought: _more_.

Once again, she followed his lead, but this time she almost struggled to keep up with him; this time, he wasn't holding anything back. Slow was not in his vocabulary, not anymore.

Oh, if this was the result she got when taunted and teased him about his 'abilities', she just might have to try it more often.

Some time later, they finally broke apart. They knew they'd have to, because the way they were kissing, the next step would probably have been clothes flying all over the place and a hasty trip into the bedroom. But they both knew they weren't read for that step quite yet.

"Was that..." he paused to take a breath, "was that _adult_ enough for you, Detective? Honest enough?"

She stared at him, eventually comprehending the question as her mind tried to return to normal. "Honest? Uh, yeah. It was...great. Yeah." Her mouth spoke those words, whereas her heart was practically yelling, 'Can we do that again?' But her mouth continued with a different thought. "Can we go sit down?" That was the best idea for her weak knees right now.

Cue the cocky grin from him.

What was that thought that he'd been thinking before? That they wouldn't be 'them' anymore if they kissed? That they would change? That they would lose their ability to banter, to challenge each other?

Well, that obviously wasn't an issue, now was it? Their whole conversation about him kissing like a twelve-year-old, while it stung, was, in fact, pure 'them'.

After they sat on the couch and were facing each other, she admitted with a small grin, "I like the honest you better, Castle. I can honestly say that I really like it when you don't hold anything back"

Her sentence caused him to jerk in surprise ever so slightly.

Oh. _Oh._ He knew she was talking about the honesty and intensity of the emotion of the kiss, but his mind had flitted to something else entirely.

His murder board...of her mother. The one that was hidden in his office. The one that he'd been hiding from her.

His breath caught in his lungs. Honesty.

Sure.

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><p><em><strong>So did you get all caught up in the kisses? Yeah, they finally kissed! But then he remembers <strong>__**his**__** secret. Ba da dummmmm.**_

_**So...like it? Hate it? Reviews would be very much appreciated.**_

_**I'm xxGoogiexx on Twitter and Tumblr.**_


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